1 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. & 



1 — ^W*r i 

lUNITED STATES OF aMEKICA.B 








#i^n/ '-v^>/ '///■//,£ /V / 



MEMOIRS, 



INCLUDING 



LETTERS, AND SELECT REMAINS, 

OP 

JOHN URQUHABT, 

LATE OF THE 

UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREW'S. 

BY WILLIAM OKME. 

WITH A PREFATORY NOTICE AND RECOMMENDATION, 
BY ALEXANDER DUFF, D.D., LL.D. 









"Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit." — Horat Carnu 

* What though short thy date ? 

Virtue, not rolling suns, the mind matures; — 
The man of wisdom is the man of years." — Young. 




PHILADELPHIA 



PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION, 

No. 265 CHESTNUT STREET. 



& 



/m* 



/?3 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by 

A. W. MITCHELL, M.D., 

m the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States in and for the 
Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 

STEREOTYPED BY J. FAGAN. 



(2) 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Prefatory Notice and Recommendation. . . . 7 

Preface to the First Edition * 29 

CHAPTER I. 

Introductory observations — John's birth, and early education 
— John sent to the Grammar School of Perth — Mr. Duff's 
account of him while there 33 

CHAPTER II. 

Difficulties in determining his profession — He is sent to the 
University of St. Andrew's — Letter to his father, giving an 
account of his gaining the first bursary — Letter to his 
mother — His success at the end of the first session — Mr. 
Duff's observations on his conduct at this time — Return to 
St. Andrew's — Letter, giving an account of his early impres- 
sions, and change of mind — Remarks on this subject — His 
views of Christian fellowship — Success at the end of his 

second session . , 44 

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4 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER III. 

FAGS 

Introduction to Dr. Chalmers — Attends the Moral Philosophy 
class — First appearance at this class — Letter to his father, 
on the formation of the University Missionary Society — On 
the same, and other topics — Mr. Duff's account of the pro- 
gress of his religious views — Letter to his parents, on the 
death of a younger brother — Letter to Mr. Orme, partly on 
the same subject — Letter to his mother — Letter to his brother 
— Letter to his sister — Letter to an afflicted friend — Letter 
to the same — His diligence at Dr. Chalmers's class — Letter 
to a young friend — Letter to his father — Success during the 
third session at College — View of John's talents and charac- 
ter at this time, by a fellow-student 65 

CHAPTER IV. 

Introductory observations — John's return home at the end of 
his third session — Letter respecting his going to some of the 
Dissenting Academies — Letter illustrative of his state of 
mind — Letters — His employments during the vacation — 
Letter to Mr. Craik — His visit to London — Mr. Adam's ac- 
count of him at this time — Letters to his father — Engage- 
ments during the winter — Letters to a friend — Letter to his 
brother — Letter to his mother — Letter to a friend — Letter 
to Mr. Orme — Opposition of his friends to his Missionary 
devotedness — Mr. Duff's account of him — Testimonies to 
his literary attainments — Mr. Alexander's account of him 

? — Dr. Chalmers's certificate 108 

CHAPTER V 

Letter to his Mother in reference to his becoming a Tutor in a 
family of high respectability — Letter to Herbert Smith, Esq. 



CONTENTS. 5 

PAGE 

— Extracts from his Journal — Letter to Mr. Craik — Letter — 
Extracts from his Journal — Letter to Mr. Trail — Letter to 
his Sister — Letters — Extracts from various letters to Mr. 
Scott Moncrieff — Letter to his friend C. — Letter to Mr. Her- 
bert Smith — Letter to the Rev. John Burnett — Letter to Mr. 
Adam — Letter to Mr. Orme — Letter — Letters to his Sister 

— Letter to Mr. Trail — Letter to Mr^ Adam — Letter to his 
afflicted friend — Letter to Mr. Trail. .- - 176 

CHAPTER VL 

The commencement of his last illness — Extract from his 
Jo-urnal — Letter to Mr. Tate — Letter to Mr. Craik — Letter 
to his father — Letter from Mr. Ewing to his father — Letter 
from Mrs. Ewing to the same — Letter from Mrs. Ewing, 
giving an account of his illness and death — Letter from 
Miss Cathcart on the same subject — His death — Letter from 
Dr. Chalmers to his father — Lines addressed to John by a 
friend — Concluding observations on his character and death. 247 

APPENDIX. 

A. — An Essay on the Nature and Design of the Mission of the 

Saviour on Earth 279 

B. — Dr. Chalmers — The St. Andrew's Missionary Society 286 

C. — Essay on the Division of Philosophy 295 

Essay on the Analogy which subsists between the Operations 

of Nature and the Operations of Political Economy 297 

That Knowledge gives its Possessor more Power than 

Wealth does 302 

An Essay on the Selfish System 306 

1* 



6 CONTENTS. 



PAGB 



D. — The Doctrine of a Gradation in Rewards and Punishments, 

and an attempt to apply it to the subject of Missions. . . 311 
E. — Essay on the Distinction between Productive and Unpro- 
ductive Labour 326 

F. — On Written Language. 331 

On Religious Establishments 334 

On the Love of Fame. . . # 336 

G.— Discourse on 2 Cor. iv. 13. 340 

H. — Essay on Natural Religion 356 

I. — Prize Essay. — On the Mutual Influences and Affinities, 
which obtain between the Moral and the Economic con- 
dition of Society 363 

K. — Address to the St. Andrew's University Missionary Society, 
on the Duty of Personal engagement in the work of 

Missions 381 

L. — Address to a Society of Young Men 400 

Address to his Class of Young Men 408 

M. — On Fiction as a Medium of Religious Instruction 413 

On the Omnipresence and Omniscience of God 418 



PREFATORY NOTICE 

AND 

RECOMMENDATION. 

BY THE REV. DR. DUFF. 



Haying been personally acquainted with the subject of the follow- 
ing memoir, I was requested, during my recent visit to the United 
States, by my revered friend James Lenox, Esq., of New York, to look 
over the last English edition, and mark what alterations might advan- 
tageously be made in a projected American edition of the work. 

This revision, hitherto delayed from unavoidable causes which it 
is needless to recount, has now been accomplished. As the general 
result, it may be stated that several minor mistakes, into which the 
Biographer had inadvertently fallen, have been corrected ; that vari- 
ous passages of inferior importance, or of merely local or ephemeral 
interest, have been omitted ; that the essays of a purely literary or 
philosophical character have been extruded from the body of the 
work and thrown into an Appendix ; and finally, that the whole has 
been broken up into the more convenient division of chapters. 

With many it may be a matter of doubt, whether the essays ought 
not to be excluded altogether. But, on mature consideration, it has 
been thought that the same reasons which weighed with the Biogra- 
pher in originally introducing them, may well be regarded as still 
sufficiently valid in warranting the continued retention of them. 
They are not numerous ; they do not occupy any considerable or dis- 
proportionate space ; and they may serve to show the students of 

(7) 



8 PREFATORY NOTICE. 

mere secular philosophy, how, between true science and true religion, 
there is not only no real discrepancy, but a beauteous and mutually 
enhancing harmony; and how, with the utmost ease, precision, and 
intelligence, a Christian young man, whose whole soul was inflamed 
with the spirit of missions, could, in the ordinary course of his 
academic career, and at the call of duty, turn aside and successfully 
grapple with some of the most abstruse and perplexing questions in 
ethics and political economy. Considered as the college exercises of 
a youth of little more than sixteen, they cannot but be pronounced 
as no ordinary productions. Their simplicity, as Mr. Orme has truly 
remarked, constitutes their charm ; the lucidus ordo is most delight- 
fully exemplified in every one of them ; his thoughts constantly flow 
in a train peculiarly clear, always natural and unaffected ; and the 
easy diction in which he expressed himself was the perfect picture 
of his mind. 

The grand object, however, of the memoir is, to exhibit the rise, 
progress, and formation of the religious character of the individual 
whose short life is illustrated. Amid the many clustering excel- 
lencies that adorned that character, by far the most prominent and 
striking was the evangelistic spirit and self-devotion by which it was 
so peculiarly distinguished. It was this which chiefly conferred on 
it at once its lustre and its uniqueness. The Church of Christ in all 
lands can happily point to not a -few young men of sincere and 
shining piety; but, unhappily, to very few, who, at the age of young 
Urquhart, have been privileged to obtain and cherish so marvellously 
clear and intelligent an apprehension of the duty of exemplifying 
that piety by a solemn act of personal dedication to the God-like 
enterprise of the world's evangelization. 

It is under this more distinctive aspect of it, that I would earnestly 
crave the special attention of Christian young men in general, and 
more particularly of Christian students and candidates for the minis- 
try, to the life of John Urquhart. 



PREFATORY NOTICE. 9 

In his case, we find the true rationale of personal dedication to the 
cause of missions, unfolded with singular point and clearness. 
In early youth it was his inestimable privilege to enjoy the benefit 
of religious training, under the instruction and example of pious 
parents. Being naturally of a mild, gentle, amiable, guileless, 
Nathanael-like disposition, such example and instruction could not 
fail to have their due effect, in not only restraining him from the 
commission of gross outward sin, and saving him from the contagious 
influences of evil companionship, but also in superinducing a habit 
of internal conformity to the practices of Christian devotion and 
worship. Still, until he had passed his fourteenth year, there is 
no evidence whatever of his having undergone the great change 
of the new birth in the soul. On this subject, his own statement to 
his pastor, Mr. Orme, is perfectly explicit. Writing, in April, 1824, 
he says, " My first impressions of danger, as a sinner, were caused 
by a sermon you" preached, on a Lord's day evening, about a year 
and a half ago. At the time, I was very much affected ; it was then, 
I think, that I first really prayed. I retired to my apartment, and 
with many tears confessed my guilt before God." 

This first partial awakening occurred towards the close of the 
autumn of 1822. Soon afterwards he went, for the first time, to the 
College of S.t. Andrew's. There his first religious impressions be- 
came somewhat blunted, though not effaced. On his return home in 
the summer of 1823, he tells us that he began to feel less pleasure in 
the exercises of prayer, and praise, and reading of the Scriptures ; 
yea, that these employments became a weariness to him, and were at 
last almost totally neglected. " My soul," he adds, " reverted to its 
original bent, and the follies of this world wholly engrossed my 
attention, and had I been left in that state, I must have inevitably 
perished." 

But the Lord, who is rich in mercy, and who delighteth not in the 
death of the wicked, had better things in store for him. Through the 



10 PREFATORY NOTICE, 

powerful operation of the Holy Spirit, a process of illumination and 
conviction was commenced and carried on in his soul, until at last it 
issued in manifest conversion to God. Returning to St. Andrew's, 
for the second time, towards the close of the autumn of 1823, he was 
enabled, before the end of that session, thus to write: "God, in his 
infinite mercy, has again been pleased to call my attention to the 
things of eternity. For some months back, I have been led to see 
the utter worthlessness of earthly things ; to see that happiness is 
not to be found in any earthly object. And I think I have been led 
to seek it where alone it is to be found — in Jesus crucified for me. 
I have felt great pleasure in communion with God; and I have felt 
some love, though faint, to the Saviour and to his cause. I have had 
a long struggle with the world. I have counted the cost, and I have 
at last resolved that I will serve the Lord." 

Under these re-awakened and more vital impressions, and as a 
scripturally ordained means of heightening and permanizing them, 
he at once resolved openly to profess his faith in Jesus, by formally 
entering the communion and fellowship of a Christian church. 
Relative to this decisive step, his biographer with equal truth and 
emphasis remarks, that his reasons for taking it, " were those by 
which he appeared to have been invariably influenced in his reli- 
gious course. He first sought to ascertain what was the will of God ; 
and on arriving at a satisfactory conclusion on this point, he was 
then prepared to encounter all difficulties which stand in the way of 
full compliance with it. He delayed not, but hastened to keep the 
commandment." 

On being received as a member of the Church of Christ, he not 
only felt keenly alive to the seriousness and solemnity of the step he 
had taken, but entertained the most humbling sense of*his own 
weakness and unworthiness, — coupled, however, with a well- 
grounded reliance on the all-sufficiency of his covenant God: "I 
eee/' he remarks, " many temptations in my way, and I feel that I 



PREFATORY NOTICE. 11 

am not able in myself to withstand them. May God perfect his 
strength in my weakness, and may he enable me henceforth to live, 
not to myself, but to Him who died for me, and who rose again ; to 
offer my body a living sacrifice, and to devote all the faculties of my 
mind to his service" 

These were no mere words of course, expressive of aspirations that 
were to perish with the utterance. No ; they were the spontaneous 
effusion of an intensely conscientious and ingenuous mind. From' 
the day that he united himself, as a member, to the body or visible 
Church of Christ, by a deliberate act of public communion, it was 
clear to all around, that he regarded himself, in strictest literality, 
as "no longer his own," but as one "bought with a price;" and 
therefore bound to serve his divine Lord and Eedeemer, with " soul, 
body, and spirit, which were his." Suddenly startled out of the 
dreamy indifference and illusory visions of old nature — arrested in 
his downward career towards the fiery lake — snatched as a brand 
from the burning — and overwhelmed under a vividly realizing sense 
of so great a deliverance, he might well have given expression to the 
actual inner workings and new spiritual instincts of his soul in words 
like these : " Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ? How can I most 
effectually testify my adoring gratitude and love? Here am I a sin- 
ful, guilty rebel, ransomed by thy blood from the power of sin, and 
death, and hell, and the grave ; do with me what thou wilt, for I am 
thy servant, under obligation the most absolute to be and to do 
whatsoever thou wilt." 

Assuredly, in his case, there was no first consulting with mere 
flesh and blood ! No tacit reserve in favour of mere natural tastes 
or antecedent predilections ! No partial or half deference to the 
whims or humours, the likings or prejudices of friends ! No plausi- 
ble transference, through a voluntary humility, of individual personal 
responsibility to the arbitrary decision of others ! No secret clinging 
or cleaving to any favourite or previously cherished scheme or depart- 



12 PREFATORY NOTICE. 

ment of labour ! No timorous respect to the ordinary routine or 
stereotyped conventionalities of ecclesiastical usage ! No ! " Here 
I am, Lord, whenever, wherever, in what way soever thou wilt have 
me to serve thee — only do thou show me, that I may promptly 
obey," — seems but the faithful and compendious embodiment of the 
real feelings and convictions of his heart. 

It was, then, when in this Isaiah-like, Paul-like mood and frame 
of mind, the true spring and source of noblest self-renunciation and 
most heroic self-sacrifice, that the Lord was pleased powerfully to 
impress his mind with a desire to devote himself to the Christian 
ministry, in direct connection with the reat work of heathen evan- 
gelization, as the sphere in which, if rightly improved, most glory 
might accrue to God, and most good to the souls of men. Thus it 
was, that in his case, the evangelistic spirit, which ultimately led to 
so solemn an act of personal consecration, was coeval with the dawn 
and manifestation of the new birth in his soul. Planted there, as in 
a soil prepared by the Holy Spirit, and watered by the dews of the 
heavenly grace, the tender germ gradually sprung up into stature 
and strength, keeping pace with the growth of the new man, until, 
at last, it bore the ripened fruit of an unconquerable resolve. 

It is true that with the subject of missions, in its general aspects, 
he had long been well acquainted. It was one in which his pious 
parents and pastor were deeply interested. It was, therefore, linked 
with many of his earliest and most familiar home associations. But 
it was not until he himself was sought out, effectually called, and 
quickened, as one of the lost, that he began to feel the influence of a 
Saviour's example and command constraining him to consider, 
whether it might not be his own duty, in imitation of his divine Lord 
and Master, to go forth in person, into " the waste howling wilderness" 
of sin and death, to seek and to save the lost ! The discovery of his 
own ruined condition by nature, opened up to his unsealed vision a 
new and appalling prospect of the whole world lying in wickedness, 



PREFATORY NOTICE. 13 

and exposed to endless miseries here and hereafter. The felt realiza- 
tion of the joy and blessedness of pardon and sanctifying grace to 
his own soul, from the Fount itself of redeeming love, inspired him 
with new and unwonted motions of sympathy and compassion to- 
wards the perishing, as well as new and unwonted desires to be 
honoured as the herald to them of the glad tidings of a great salva- 
tion. An overpowering sense of grateful loyalty to Him to whom he 
owed his own everlasting life, inspired him with an uncontrollable 
longing to do what in him lay, to advance that glorious cause of the 
world's evangelization, in the consummation of which alone He shall 
see of the travail of his soul and be satisfied. Thus it was that, in 
him, the first stirring of the missionary spirit was not the impulse 
of a mere ordinary philanthropy — not the fitful gleam of a doating 
imagination — not the fond vision of chivalrous romance — not the 
sudden movement of excited feeling — not the wild project of adven- 
turous enterprise — not the momentary flash and sparkle of an 
ebullient enthusiasm. Oh, no ! It was the welling forth of a divine 
sentiment of pity and compassion, gratitude and love, from the pro- 
foundest depths of a renovated spirit — it was the lighting up of a 
radiant and enduring principle of life and energy in a soul, now 
struggling in the new pathway of holy duty, to disengage itself 
wholly from the smoke and tarnish of a turbid earthly atmosphere. 

Still, he was very young and inexperienced, not having yet com- 
pleted his sixteenth year. On this account, with a judgment pre- 
eminently sound, he resolved, in the first instance, to keep his newly 
awakened thoughts and desires to himself, spreading them out before 
God only, and seeking for further light from the illumination of the 
Holy Spirit, in the reading of Scripture, meditation, and prayer. 
A better evidence of perfect calmness and sobriety, coupled with 
earnest determination, could scarcely be afforded, than was indicated 
by this course of action. " If," wrote he, even at a later period, 
" if my wish to preach the gospel of Christ among the heathen, have 

2 



14 PREFATORY NOTICE. 

in it aught of the romance of a boyish imagination, a few years' 
thought and experience will extinguish its ardour ; but if the Lord 
has appointed me to declare his name among the Gentiles, and that 
wish has been implanted in my breast by the Spirit of God, delays 
and disappointments will but foster its growth, and make it yet more 
vigorous." How sagaciously he had thus judged, the result abund- 
antly proved. 

After the lapse of a considerable period, devoted to private read- 
ings, meditation, and prayer, he resolved in his intense anxiety to 
learn his Lord's will in the matter, to seek for light from every avail- 
able extraneous source, steadfastly watching the leadings of Provi-, 
dence with a filial eye. Conscious of his own liability to err, and 
with a diffidence and modesty peculiar to the sincere inquirer after 
truth and the path of duty, he was led, among other means of en- 
lightenment, to ask counsel from friends to whose candour and 
practical wisdom he might look with some degree of confidence; not 
that such counsel might form a decisive or determining element in 
the case ; but simply furnish materials for the confirmation or correc- 
tion of his own immatured judgment. It was to his pastor, Mr. 
Orme, that in his letter of February 18th, 1825, he very natur- 
ally and properly first unbosomed his mind on the subject, stating 
that he had long considered the object of the missionary enterprise, 
as "one of the most important, perhaps, the most important, which 
can engage the mind of a Christian ;" that, " for some time he had 
even seriously thought of devoting his own life to the cause of mis- 
sions ;" that he was " aware of the difficulties to be encountered, and 
of the danger of rashly forming a resolution of such importance ;" 
that " even the desire he had thus expressed was the fruit of much 
meditation and prayer;" and that he had "communicated it to Mr. 
Orme in order to have the benefit of his advice." 

But while he thus sought the counsel of experienced friends, it 
was from the Bible that he drew his chief inspiration and guidance ; 



PREFATORY NOTICE. 15 

praying at the same time, for the illumining influences of the Holy 
Spirit. The substance of his cogitations and conclusions in this 
direction he himself supplies. In a letter to a friend, July 8th, 1825, 
he remarks as follows : — 

" In connection with this matter, I have been led to consider more 
attentively those passages of Scripture which refer to missionary 
exertions, and the result has been a deeper impression than ever of 
the duty of engaging in this work. It is very true that much has to 
be done at home ; that there are many here, as my friend Craik 
writes, who ' can only be considered in the light of more criminal 
heathens/ But this is a wilful ignorance ; they are not ' perishing 
from lack of knowledge/ And this argument, if carried to its full 
extent, would stifle missionary exertions to the very end of the 
world. What would have been the consequence had the apostles 
resolved not to leave Jerusalem till every one of their brethren 
according to the flesh was truly converted? The Gentiles would 
not have received the glad tidings of salvation to the present hour. 
This was not the commandment the apostles received^ however; and 
accordingly they acted in a very different manner. They were to 
preach the gospel to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. The 
nation of the Jews had a claim upon the first preachers of Christi- 
anity which our countrymen have not upon us. They were not only 
their * brethren according to the flesh/ but they were also God's 
chosen nation ; and as such it was right that they should enjoy a 
pre-eminence over all others, in first receiving the proclamation of 
pardon. But how did their brethren, the apostles, act even to this 
favoured nation ? They made a full declaration of salvation through 
Christ ; they made a free tender of the mercy of Jehovah ; but by 
almost all this mercy was slighted and rejected. By thus sinning 
against greater light, these individuals became more criminal even 
than the heathen. Did the apostles, therefore, think that they should 



16 PREFATORY NOTICE. 

not go forth to the heathen till all these rejecters of the truth were 
convinced of the error of their ways ? No ; that very rejection of the 
gospel by their countrymen was a signal for their departure. * See- 
ing ye reject? &c, * behold, we turn to the Gentiles/ Had the gospel 
been proclaimed in like manner to all other nations, the apostles 
would have felt it their duty to have laboured assiduously among 
their brethren at home. But, while there remained a single nation 
on the face of the earth that had not received the knowledge of salva- 
tion, they felt that the parting commandment of their Master was 
not yet fully obeyed ; and while they lived, they made it their busi- 
ness more and more fully to execute that command. But their mis- 
sionary spirit died with them ; and at the present hour that com- 
mandment remains still unobeyed. Is it difficult, in this case, to 
see the path of duty ? Besides, I cannot see that by preaching at 
home we hasten the coming glory of the Church. God has promised 
that all shall know him. He has not promised that all shall serve 
him. On the contrary, he has said that he will gather his people 
out of every nation, kindred, and tongue, and people ; which evi- 
dently implies that all shall not be his people. Far be it from me to 
depreciate the work of the ministry at home. It is a most important 
work. But still, while there are any sitting in darkness and the 
shadow of death, it must yield in importance to the missionary field. 
Besides, who can tell what an effect our neglect of God's command- 
ment to preach to all nations may have in causing him to withhold 
his Spirit from the exertions of Christians at home V 

In a subsequent letter he supplements this clear, simple, resistless 
scriptural statement, by the following very impressive view: — 

"I still am inclined to think that the publication of the gospel as 
a message of mercy to sinners is the grand object for which the 
Christian ministry was instituted ; at least it is one of the greatest 



PREFATORY NOTICE. 17 

objects. I do think that even the edification of the body of Christ 
yields to it in point of importance. We believe that if a sinner once 
embraces the gospel he cannot finally fall away; and even if his pro- 
gress in the divine life should be slow, we know that in a very few 
years at the farthest, a full display of the glories of the divine 
character must burst upon him. Now, whether is it a more import- 
ant work to rescue a sinner from hell and place him in this condition 
of safety, or to antedate, in a very slight degree, the happiness of a 
future state in one who has believed ? For, all our advances in the 
knowledge of divine truth here must be held insignificant, when 
compared with the immense addition to our knowledge and our hap- 
piness, which we shall receive at that time when the dim conceptions 
of faith shall be exchanged for the bright realities of actual vision. 
I beg that you would not understand me as estimating lightly the 
work of grace in the hearts of believers. It is only when contrasted 
with the work of regeneration that I would ever think of it as of 
secondary importance. But I am not sure that the work of grace 
would go on more slowly in the hearts of believers, from the attention 
of the pastors being more called to the work of evangelizing the 
heathen. I do think in the present day we are apt to trust too much 
to public ordinances, and I would almost like to see Christians more 
thrown upon the resources of private devotion, and more direct com- 
munion with God. Our knowledge of divine things, to be sure, is 
small ; but, that our piety were but equal to our knowledge I" 

As a further means of furnishing himself with sufficient data to 
ensure an intelligent and solidly based resolution, he sought and 
obtained, in the autumn of 1825, a personal interview with Mr. 
Townley, formerly a missionary in Bengal, and Dr. Morrison, the 
celebrated Chinese missionary, then resident in London. To them 
he openly expressed the wish he had for some time fostered, to devote 
himself, if the Lord willed, to missionary labours. As China, on 
2* 



18 PREFATORY NOTICE. 

account of its magnitude and their comparative neglect by the 
Christian world, presented the strongest claims to his mind, he 
looked forward to it as his probable future mission-field. He, 
accordingly, attended Dr. Morrison's instructions in Chinese, that 
he might gain as much insight into " the mode of studying the lan- 
guage as might enable him, should he wish to pursue it, to do so 
alone." And his biographer testifies that the papers he left behind 
sufficiently evinced how ardently and successfully he entered into the 
study of that difficult language. 

Returning with his friend Mr. Adam, who had devoted himself to 
the missionary cause, about the end of October, to St. Andrew's, they 
both resolved to apply themselves afresh to their general studies, and 
to a thorough examination of everything relating to missions. For 
this purpose, they searched the sacred Scriptures, and summed up 
their inquiries under the heads of precepts, prophecies, examples, and 
promises. In order to render the investigation the more complete, 
they also resolved, at the same time, to collect from other sources, 
all the accessible information on the interesting subject. In this 
way they carefully perused Brown's History of Missions, Home's, 
Ward's, Milne's, and Judson's Letters; the lives of Martyn, Brainard, 
and Chamberlain; "Ward's History of the Hindus, &c, praying more 
earnestly than ever for wisdom and direction from above. 

It is surely not possible to imagine anything more enlightened or 
judicious than the preparatory course of inquiry thus systematically 
pursued. No rashness, flightiness, impulsiveness, flashy enthusiasm, 
or ephemeral excitement here ! On the contrary, all is characterized 
by a singular calmness and sobriety of spirit, comprehensiveness of 
aim, and persevering steadfastness of purpose, the clear indications 
of a simple, earnest, honest, conscientious desire to ascertain the 
divinely prescribed path of duty. 

And what was the result? A growing conviction of the para- 
mount claims of the heathen field, and of the duty of personal en- 



PREFATORY NOTICE. 19 

gagement in the missionary cause. Accordingly, as he had been 
led to give the first intimation of his long cherished desire on the 
subject to his friend Mr. Orme, so, on the 10th of March, 1826, he 
deemed it proper to convey to him the first announcement of his 
final decision. In that admirable communication, he tells how Mr. 
Adam and himself had made the subject of missions a matter of 
daily consideration throughout the session, reading nearly all the 
principal works relating to it; how he had thus obtained much 
sounder views of the matter than before ; how the brilliant colouring 
of romance, if it previously existed in any degree, had faded from 
the picture, only leaving its outlines more strongly and broadly 
marked than before ; how he was distressed by the prospect of those 
temptations before which so many of the missionary agents had 
fallen, and yet, how he felt encouraged to trust in God who could 
enable him to stand in the midst of all temptations ; how he saw 
more clearly than ever that unwavering faith in God's promises and 
closeness of communion with him, were among the many requisites 
in the character of the missionary ; how, the further he proceeded in 
his inquiries, he was impressed more deeply than ever with the duty 
of engaging in this department of the ministerial work ; and how, 
as the result of the whole, " after deliberately viewing all sides of the 
question, and candidly comparing the claims of our home population 
and the heathen world, and earnestly seeking for direction from Him 
who has promised to be the guide of his people even unto death, he had 
come to the final resolution of devoting himself to the service of God 
among the heathen." 

His first public announcement of this final resolution was made, 
about the same time, towards the close of his concluding address to 
the members of the St. Andrew's University Missionary Society. 
It was in these terms : " The matter" (of personal engagement) 
" some time ago presented itself very forcibly to my own mind, and 
I felt that it at least demanded my serious consideration. As I have 



20 PREFATORY NOTICE. 

proceeded with my inquiries on the subject, the difficulties seemed 
to have gathered thicker on the prospect, but the convictions of duty 
have grown stronger too. The arguments for personal engagement 
seem to me to have acquired the strength of a demonstration. I 
have, therefore, resolved, with the help of God, to devote my life to 
the cause ; and I have only solemnly to charge every one of you who 
are looking forward to the ministry of Christ, to take this matter 
into most serious consideration." 

The writer of these remarks happened to be present when these 
sentences were uttered, and he can testify to the deep and solemn 
impression which they produced. It was not that they displayed 
aught of the artistic in style, the fascinating in rhetoric, or the 
brilliant in oratory. Ah, no. In themselves, the words were 
abundantly simple, artless, and unendowed. But there was, not- 
withstanding, a spell-like charm in them which at once reached the 
heart and caused it to vibrate to the innermost core. The address 
was on the subject of "personal engagement in the work of mis- 
sions." The preacher commenced with a somewhat abrupt and 
hurried intimation which instantaneously aroused and arrested 
general attention. As he advanced, step by step, every statement 
seemed so clear and strong in common sense — every illustration, so 
apt and telling — every address to the head and heart, so backed and 
fenced round and round by scriptural authority — and all, so firmly 
clenched by that consummating announcement, which proved beyond 
the possibility of cavil or debate, that the earnest advocate was no 
mere special pleader who strove to influence others by appeals which 
had failed in practically convincing himself — that the cumulative 
argument seemed to bear down on the sincere and candid mind with 
a force all but resistless. And then, there was something so touch- 
ing, so melting even, in that youthful expression of countenance, 
when lighted up with the kindliness of an unearthly sanctity — some- 
thing so piercingly persuasive in those suffused eyes, when glow- 



PREFATORY NOTICE. 21 

ing with the fire of wistful longing and fervent entreaty — something 
so soul-thrilling in that naturally sweet, soft, mellow, silvery voice, 
when quivering with the pathos of out-gushing emotion from a sur- 
charged heart, — that the combined effect of the whole might well 
be said to have been overwhelming. For a moment, it appeared as 
if all present were ready to rise up and march forth as a united 
phalanx into the battle-field ; and few there were who did not then 
at least resolve to submit the subject to an examination with which 
it had never been honoured before ; while of some, it can be added 
that they did not pause till they found themselves across oceans 
and continents, in front of the bristling hosts and frowning citadels 
of heathenism. 

When his long and sore soul-travail had thus fairly brought his 
final resolution to the birth, one would have thought that it would 
have been joyously hailed, with general acclaim, by the friends of 
Jesus. But, no. Already, while merely prosecuting his earnest 
researches on the subject, he had met with not a little discourage- 
ment on the part of those from whom he had good reason to antici- 
pate a different reception. And now, the formal announcement of 
his final decision seemed only to be the signal for an onset of more 
positive and determined opposition. But, it was not to be expected 
that a resolution which had been the deliberate result of so much 
patient, pains-taking conscientious inquiry — accompanied with so 
much fervent prayer and devout waiting upon God — could be easily 
shaken. It was not like Jonah's gourd, the growth of a day, destined 
to wither, before the first attack of an insect foe, in the morning of 
a summer's day. It rather resembled the monarch oak, which, slow 
in growth, gradually attains to a robustness of strength, that enables 
it not only to defy, but acquire increased tenacity of root and texture 
from every assailing tempest. The result abundantly proved that 
every antagonistic argument and appeal only recoiled on their 
authors, with a quicker and yet more vehement rebound, — thus 



22 PREFATORY NOTICE. 

furnishing fresh and incontestable evidence of the massive solidity — 
the adamantine firmness of the basis on which the resolution had 
been founded. 

It is, therefore, with feelings of deepest pain, on account of his 
friendly but misjudging opponents, and intensest admiration of the 
heavenly-minded youth — in whom sage-like wisdom seemed so 
rarely blended with childlike simplicity, and the tenderest sensi- 
bilities intertwined with the stern, heroic, martyr-like spirit — that 
we find so many entries like the following, in his subsequent journals 
and letters : " He" (a venerated professor whom he greatly esteemed 
and loved) " tries to persuade me to stay in this country, but I do not 
think his arguments powerful." " I have been in Glasgow twice. I 
met Mr. Erskine there as well as Mr. Ewing," (colleague of Dr. 
Wardlaw in the Theological Seminary), &c. "All are against my 
being a missionary; but I have heard no arguments against it that 
seem to me at all conclusive." " Have you been thinking more of 
missions? I find every body dissuades and discourages me, urging 
the great wants of our own country. I think I feel the claims of 
our own land as strongly as some who urge them against my plans. 
But still this does not prevent me from feeling the immense argu- 
mentative force of the simple fact, that nothing has yet been done 
for heathen nations, proportioned to their vast extent; and nothing 
to fulfil the wide command of our Lord." " I have been partly 
terrified out of the idea of attempting publication, from the decided 
opposition our sentiments on this subject have met with, when I 
have laid them before those whom I have, from infancy, looked up 
to as men mighty in the Scriptures. Do not mistake me: my own 
convictions are by no means weakened. Every prayer deepens their 
impression. And at times of closer communion with God, a brighter 
light seems to be shed on the path before me. My own conscience 
must be my guide." " On the subject of missions every prayer 
strengthens my purpose. I am aware of the glare of romance, 



PREFATORY NOTICE. 23 

•which fancy may throw round the idea of Christian expeditions to 
foreign lands ; but I have tried to make due allowance for this ; I 
have prayed that a youthful imagination might not lead me astray. 
The result is, I am every day more and more convinced that my 
convictions on this matter are founded in Scripture." " On con- 
sulting my friends" (parents and others, when on a visit to Perth) 
" I was astonished to find them even more opposed than before. 
There seemed to be even some disappointment that I had not by this 
time, abandoned the idea of being a missionary altogether. Had the 
impulse on my mind been a mere boyish fancy, in all probability 
this would have been the case, exposed as I have been to influences 
altogether unfavourable. But I trust there is no enthusiasm in sup- 
posing that the impression has been made by the Spirit of God, when 
time, and meditation, and prayer make it deeper and deeper. Still, 
my relations are quite against my views." 

In connection with this determined and continued opposition which 
he had to encounter, to the very last, from Professors, ministers, 
relatives and acquaintances, Mr. Orme endeavours to present a plea, 
partly apologetic, and partly explanatory. 

One of the dissuasive arguments frequently adduced — rather a 
favourite one with fond parents and doating friends — was, the 
alleged weakness and delicacy of his constitution. But apart from 
the grand fact, that all are in the hands of a gracious and sove- 
reign God„ who can preserve the weak, though exposed to the greatest 
peril, and strike down the strong, though placed in circumstances 
the most advantageous, Urquhart was persuaded of the soundness 
of the opinion of the physician whom he had consulted, coinciding 
as it did with that of the most experienced on the subject: " That no 
physician could predict how any particular constitution would suit a 
hot climate ; and that, in general, persons of a thin, spare habit," 
(like his own), "were more likely to stand than those who were 
stouter" 



24 PREFATORY NOTICE. 

Another of the redoubtable and stereotyped arguments with which 
he was constantly plied — the favourite one with Theological Pro- 
fessors and home pastors, who yet, at times, can eloquently declaim 
on the awful spiritual necessities of the heathen, and the glory and 
grandeur of the missionary enterprise — was, the urgent claims of 
home ; implying, that he possessed some special fitness, from the 
peculiarity of his tastes and talents, for home work. Now, the real 
fact was, as stated repeatedly by himself, that he was led, in the 
very consideration of the missionary question, to regard more atten- 
tively the state of his own country as to religious knowledge. And 
no one can carefully and candidly read the many communications in 
which the subject is discussed by him, without perceiving how tho- 
roughly he had examined, and how intelligently he had appreciated 
the claims of home ; yea, how diligently he had laboured, as time 
and opportunity were afforded, in supplying the wants of home, by 
teaching Sabbath-schools, collecting young men around him, holding 
prayer meetings with the poor, visiting from house to house, distri- 
buting tracts ; and yet, how vastly, in the case of one like himself, 
who simply strove to learn where the Lord's cause had most need of 
his personal services, the claims of the heathen were felt to prepon- 
derate. 

But a truce to all such objections ! From whatever quarter they 
proceed, they are of "the earth, earthy." Professors of religion, 
indolently and sinfully suffer themselves, for the most part, to be so 
entrenched in antecedent prejudices, preferences, and predilections, 
that their minds can very seldom indeed fairly look the subject in 
the face. Nay, more ! The real truth is, that the teeming brood of 
ordinary objections will be found to spring from a deeper source 
than any that appears on the surface, or any that is usually avowed. 
The saddening and discreditable fact ought not to be glozed over or 
disguised, from the cowardly fear of offending man — however lofty 
in talent, station, or influence ; or however endeared by ties of earthly 



PREFATORY NOTICE. 25 

relationship — that there is, in the minds even of most of the 
friends and supporters of missions, a thoroughly inadequate appre- 
hension of two most vital gospel requirements : — First, a thoroughly- 
inadequate apprehension of the real nature and extent of the self- 
sacrifice, which the gospel demands of all true believers ; though such 
self-sacrifice be not a super-eminent grace, expected to belong only 
to a chosen few of transcendent piety, but one of the primary con- 
stituent elements of the Christian character — the destitution of 
which would argue not so much weakness of faith, as the non-exist- 
ence of genuine faith altogether : — and secondly, as thoroughly 
inadequate an apprehension of the real nature and magnitude of the 
missionary enterprise, and of the peculiar claims of heathen nations, 
viewed in the light of Scripture prophecy and divine commands, as 
compared with those which, for ages, have enjoyed the blessed dis- 
pensation of the gospel. Hence it is, that, too often, even pious pro- 
fessors and ministers would begrudge young men, that are rarely 
gifted by nature and grace, to the heathen world ; as if the conduct 
of a great war in the territory of a powerful foe demanded less 
talent, genius, or energy, than the commandership of a peaceful gar- 
rison in one's native land ; or, as if the procedure which God himself 
exemplified in separating Paul and Barnabas, the mightiest of 
apostles and apostolic men, from the great and flourishing Church 
of Antioch, to become his ambassadors to the realms of heathenism, 
constituted no precedent, and challenged no imitation ! And hence, 
also, it is, that, too often, even godly parents would begrudge a 
beloved son to the glorious work of proclaiming the unsearchable 
riches of Christ among the Gentiles ; as if he were their own, and not 
His, whose claims, as Creator, Preserver, and Eedeemer, are alto- 
gether paramount; or, as if the divine declaration, "that God so 
loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever 
believeth on him should not perish, but have everlasting life," con- 
stituted no example, and imposed no practical obligation ! 
3 



26 PREFATORY NOTICE. 

How far the painful and harassing course of dissuasion and resist- 
ance, so obstinately and unyieldingly persisted in by parents, 
acquaintances, and friends, may have acted on Urquhart's keenly 
sensitive nature, so as injuriously to affect his bodily health and 
help to precipitate a fatal issue, it were vain for us now to surmise. 
On this extremely delicate point, every reader of the narrative must 
be left to judge for himself. One thing is certain, that, up to the 
very last, his own mind remained firm and unshaken as the iron 
rocks amid the ceaseless buffetings of old ocean. The last entry 
in his journal, referring to the commencement of the attack which 
soon terminated his earthly career, very touchingly shows, as his 
biographer has well remarked, how the ruling passion — his devoted 
attachment to personal service in the missionary cause — appeared 
strong in death. After recording the doctor's professional verdict, 
he remarks : " This has distressed me a good deal, as it may unfit 
me for the East; which I have long contemplated as the scene of my 
labours. But the Lord knows what is best." 

Verily, the good and the gracious Lord did know what was best ; 
and He now began visibly to take the whole matter into his own 
hands. He who knows the heart, well knew how sincerely and 
devoutly it was in the heart of the youthful Urquhart personally to 
labour in the distant fields of heathen evangelism. And, doubtless, 
the approving sentence, that it was good to have cherished such a 
purpose in his heart, has been duly registered in the book of the 
Divine remembrance. But, as endless obstacles were interposed in 
his way, by parents and friends on earth, the Lord was pleased, in 
his sovereignty, to decide the question, by taking him to himself! 
They would not consent to his serving his divine Master in foreign 
climes below; and so, he transferred him to a nobler service in the 
climes above ! They would not consent to his leaving home and 
fatherland, on an embassy of mercy to perishing millions ; and so, 
in loving-kindness to him and in rebuke to them, the Lord ordained 



PREFATORY NOTICE. 27 

that what they would not willingly suffer him to attempt by his life, 
lie would honour and enable him to accomplish more effectually by 
his early death ! It is known that, already, the perusal of this 
memoir has been sanctified as the means of quickening the desire of 
some, and confirming the timid resolve of others, to go forth as the 
heralds of salvation to the unevangelized tribes of earth. These, 
then, may truly be regarded as his substitutes and representatives 
in the heathen world, which he had so longed to visit and help to save. 
And souls rescued by their instrumentality from the bondage of sin 
and Satan, may yet hail him in the realms of everlasting day, as, in 
an important sense, their honoured spiritual progenitor. 

Recommending, therefore, this volume, with all earnestness, to the 
members, and especially the juvenile members, of the evangelic 
churches of America, my fervent prayer is, that the lessons which it 
is so well fitted to teach, may not be lost on old or young, — that the 
perusal of it may, under God, be blessed to the stimulating of their 
souls to holier and more self-denying endeavours for the advance- 
ment of Christ's cause and kingdom in the world — - that the mantle 
of the saintly, devoted, and now glorified Urquhart may fall on not 
a few youthful, ardent disciples, who, imbued with a double portion 
of his spirit, may be privileged to rear the standard of the cross 
over many a hitherto unconquered province of Satan's empire. 

ALEXANDER DUFF. 
March, 1855. 



PKEFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 



BY THE KEY. WM. OPOIE. 



I had scarcely received the intimation, alike unexpected and dis- 
tressing, of the death of my beloved young friend, when I was impor- 
tunately solicited to give some account of him to the world. The 
reasons for making this application to me, will be sufficiently apparent 
to the reader of the volume, so that no explanation on that point is 
required in this place. Prompted at once by my love for the indi- 
vidual, and by a sense of duty to God, whose grace and goodness 
were eminently illustrated, I assented to the request, before I knew 
what it would involve. I had then no correct idea of the nature of 
the materials which existed, and supposed that a very small number 
of pages might include all that I could furnish of sufficient interest. 
No sooner, however, was, my purpose made known, than, besides 
the papers left by himself, which were more numerous and valuable 
than I had supposed, his friends and fellow-students poured in upon 
me such a number of letters and communications, that I have found 
great difficulty in keeping my selection even within the bounds to 
which the work has finally extended. 

The individuals who have thus supplied some of the most valuable 
parts of the volume, and have contended who should bear the most 
decided testimony to the character and talents of him whom " they 
admired when living, and adored when lost," though occasionally 
mentioned, in connection with the correspondence, will, I am sure, 
experience some gratification, in having their names more distinctly 
connected with this memorial of their departed friend. It is due 
from me to say, that without their aid, I must have failed in doing 
justice to his character and history. It is due from the readers of 
this volume, if they shall experience any gratification from those 
letters, which, I consider, to be no less beautiful as compositions, 
3* (29) 



30 PREFACE. 

than they are admirable in sentiment. And it is especially due to 
that sacred and Christian friendship, which subsisted between them 
and him who has gone to receive an early, but a full reward. I 
earnestly pray, that the band of youthful spirits, united at St. 
Andrew's, may, "when the dispersed of Israel are gathered into 
one," be again united, to rejoice together in the fruits of their sacred 
association. 

The following are entitled to an honourable place in this statement: 
— Mr. John Adam of Homerton, between whom and the deceased 
there was a solemn agreement to labour together among the heathen, 
should Providence permit. Mr. Alexander Duff, still, I believe, 
a student, the earliest friend of John, at the University. Mr. William 
Alexander, his latest companion while there, and who is still prose- 
cuting his studies with a view to the Christian ministry. Mr. Henry 
Craik, now at Exeter, between whom and John, a most powerful 
attachment appears to have subsisted, which rendered his death 
almost overwhelming. Mr. William Tait, son of the Rev. William 
Tait, of the College Church, Edinburgh. Mr. William Scott Mon- 
crieff, of Edinburgh ; Mr. Herbert Smith, of Egham, Surrey; Mr, 
James Lewis, Mr. Alexander Reid, and Mr. Robert Trail. 

To other individuals, besides these, I have also been indebted for 
some valuable contributions ; but whose names, I could not, with 
propriety, mention. They will accept of my affectionate acknow- 
ledgments for the readiness with which they allowed me the use of 
the letters which I have published. 

Besides those testimonies, which I have used throughout the work, 
both to support my own opinion of the talents and character of the 
deceased, and to illustrate the points of view in which they were 
contemplated by others, there is one, which is entitled to a distin- 
guished place in this memorial. Knowing that John had been a 
favourite pupil of Dr. Chalmers ; and that, between the Doctor and 
him, a very intimate friendship had obtained, before I did anything 
myself, I wrote to Dr. Chalmers to inquire if he could undertake 
the office of biographer, and offering him, in that case, all the infor- 
mation and documents I possessed. In answer to this, I received 
the following letter, which confers a high value on the work that 
contains it, and shows the estimate which was formed of this admir- 
able youth, by one of the most eminent men of the age. 



PREFACE. 31 

" St. Andrew's, Feb. \Wi t 1827. 

" My Dear Sir — I received your letter some days ago, but have 
been prevented, by various engagements, from replying to it so soon 
as I could have wished. 

" I had been previously applied to, from another quarter, for a 
Memoir of John Urquhart ; and felt myself obliged to decline, in 
consequence of other engagements. I have less difficulty in pleading 
the same apology to you ; for your superior opportunities, and earlier 
acquaintance with him, point you out as the person on whom the 
task is most properly devolved. 

" He is altogether worthy of the biographical notice which you 
purpose. My first knowledge of him, was as a student, in which 
capacity, he far outpeered all his fellows ; and in a class of uncom- 
mon force, and brilliancy of talent, shone forth as a star of the first 
magnitude. 

"I do not recollect the subjects of his various essays; but the 
very first which he read in the hearing of myself, and of his fellow- 
students, placed him at the head of the class in point of estimation : 
a station, which he supported throughout, and which was fully 
authenticated at the last, by the highest prize being assigned to him 
for those anonymous compositions, which are submitted to my own 
judgment, and among which, I decide the relative, and respective 
merits, without any knowledge of their authors. 
\ " For several months, I only recognised him as a person of fine 
taste, and lofty intellect ; which, teeming forth, as they did from one 
who had not yet terminated his boyhood, gave the indication, and 
the promise, of something quite superlative in future life. It was 
not till after I had, for a time, admired his capacities for science, 
that I knew him as the object of a far higher admiration, for his 
deep and devoted sacredness. 

"It was in the second session of my acquaintance with him, that 
I devolved upon him the care of a Sabbath-school, which I had 
formed. In the conduct of this little seminary, he displayed a tact, 
and a talent, which were quite admirable, and I felt myself far out- 
run by him, in the power of kind and impressive communication ; 
and in that faculty, by which he commanded the interest of the 
pupils, and could gain, at all times, the entire sympathy of their 
understanding. Indeed, all his endowments, whether of the head or 



32 PREFACE. 

of the heart, were in the best possible keeping. For example, he 
was alike literary and mathematical, and combined the utmost 
beauty of composition, with the rigour and precision of the exact 
sciences. But his crowning excellence was his piety ; that virtue, 
which matured him so early for heaven, and bore him in triumph 
from that earth on which he hath so briefly sojourned. This religious 
spirit gave a certain ethereal hue to all his college exhibitions. He 
had the amplitude of genius, but none of its irregularities. There 
was no shooting forth of mind in one direction, so as to give a promi- 
nency to certain acquisitions, by which to overshadow, or to leave 
behind, the other acquisitions, of his educational course. He was 
neither a mere geometer, nor a mere linguist, nor a mere meta- 
physician ; he was all put together ; alike distinguished by the ful- 
ness, and the harmony of his powers. 

" I leave to you, sir, the narrative of his higher characteristics. I 
have spoken, and fully spoken, of the attainments of his philosophy ; 
to you it belongs, to speak of the sublimer attainments of his faith. 

" Had I needed aught to reconcile me to the transition which I 
have made, from the state of a pastor to that of a professor, it would 
just be the successive presentation, year after year, of such students 
as John Urquhart ; nor, in giving up the direct work of a Christian 
minister, can I regret the station to which Providence has trans- 
lated me, at one of the fountain heads of the Christian ministry in 
our land. 

" Yours, very truly, 

" THOMAS CHALMERS." 



MEMOIR 



OF 



JOHN UEUUHAET. 



CHAPTER I. 

Introductory observations — John's birth, and early education — 
John sent to the Grammar School of Perth — Mr. Duff's account 
of him while there. 

Biography is not dependent for its usefulness on the 
length of an individual's life, or on the station which he 
occupies in society. Were this the case, the longest 
livers, or the most dignified personages would constitute 
the chief subjects of this species of writing. But so far 
is this from being the fact, that the great body of those 
who live to advanced years, and occupy the high places 
of the earth, pass out of it with little more than an ante- 
diluvian notice, — " They lived, begat sons and daughters, 
and died. ,, 

Such a record is all that the vast majority of these per- 
sons deserve. They live for time, and they live for them- 
selves. In their characters none of the elements of an 
enlarged and immortal benevolence exist. To the present 
state of being, all their views and wishes are limited, 
and with the objects which minister to their own gratifi- 
cation, they are almost entirely engrossed. When they 

have finished their day, therefore, they have obtained, 

(33) 



34 MEMOIR Or JOHN URQUHART. 

such as it is, their reward. As while they lived, the world 
was nothing to them, except as it conferred enjoyment ; 
so when they die, they are nothing to the world, which in 
their death has sustained no loss. The blanks which such 
deaths occasion are quickly filled up. The candidates for 
the pleasures and honours of the earth are innumerable : 
and they are generally too busy in attending to themselves, 
to think much of their predecessors, or to derive either 
warning or improvement from their fate. 

It is admitted that the lives of such persons will fre- 
quently supply a large portion of what is called incident, 
which is too generally regarded as the principal charm of 
biography. In proportion to the number of extraordinary 
events, unlooked-for occurrences, and strange combina- 
tions, is supposed to be the value of the memoirs or the 
life ; while all the while the events illustrate no principle, 
develop no specific class of causes, and furnish little or 
no instruction to the reader. They appear as if they were 
stuck upon the subject, instead of growing out of his charac- 
ter, and might, for anything we can see, as well belong to 
a hundred other persons, as to the hero of the story. 

The life of the most interesting person whom this world 
has produced, whose actions were entirely directed to the 
affairs of the world, and whose training had little bearing 
on the enjoyment and occupations of a better state, must 
be of less importance than the life of the least individual 
in the kingdom of heaven. In the former case, the results, 
as far as the person himself is concerned, terminate with 
time ; in the latter, they embrace eternity. Here the 
germs of an immortal existence are planted ; here the roots 
are struck, of that tree of life which is destined to fill the 
celestial paradise with its sweetest and most fragrant fruits j 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 35 

here the first elements of the heavenly sciences are learned ; 
and here commence those dispositions and habits which 
shall grow to perfection in the courts of the Lord. 

The writer of the following pages has no romantic tale 
to tell ; but he regards it as one of some interest, or he 
would not tell it. It will be found to contain nothing 
of the poetry or fiction of religion, which are so eagerly 
sought by the sickly sentimentalists of the age. It records 
none of those splendid acts of religious heroism, the exter- 
nal glory of which the men of the world are sometimes 
disposed to admire, while they hate the principles which 
produce them. His aim is to present a faithful, though 
he is conscious it is only an imperfect, portrait, of one 
dear to himself by many recollections ; whose mind was 
cast in one of nature's finest moulds, and highly polished, 
not by art and man's device only, but by the Spirit of the 
living God ; whose character rose to maturity more rapidly 
than that of any individual he ever knew, and who lived 
as much in a short time, as most who have been hon 
oured to adorn the doctrine of the Redeemer. Should the 
simple story of his short pilgrimage enforce on the minds 
of his youthful associates, the importance of cultivating 
his virtues and following his example ; and lead others to 
examine the nature of that religion which was the object 
of such devotion to a mind of no ordinary vigour and 
acuteness, great will be the reward. In that case, it 
may at last appear that John Urquhart lived not in vain ; 
and that the time spent in recording his history has not 

been unprofitably employed. 

i 

The subject of these memoirs was born in the town of 
Perth, on the seventh of June, 1808. As his parents are 



36 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

both alive, it would be indecorous to say much more than 
that, professing the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, they 
felt the importance of devoting their offspring to him, and 
of bringing them up in the nurture and admonition of the 
Lord. To his mother in particular he was indebted for 
his earliest ideas and impressions ; and of her tenderness 
and attention to him, he retained, as will afterwards 
appear from his letters, the liveliest and most grateful 
recollections. 

From the extraordinary quickness and precocity which 
distinguished him, more than usual encouragement must 
have been presented to instil into his mind the elements 
of knowledge and religion ; and I have reason to believe 
that advantage was duly taken of his docile and inquisi- 
tive disposition, to direct his attention to the most inter- 
esting of all subjects. It is not often that we can trace 
the impressions of childhood in the future habits and 
character of the man. They are made during a period in 
which the mind is inattentive to its own operations, and 
unconscious of the nature of the process which it is under- 
going. The effects remain after the cause which produced 
them is forgotten. The writing upon the heart often be- 
comes legible, only when the hand which traced it is 
mouldering in the dust ; and the prayers which have been 
frequently breathed over the cradle of infancy, sometimes 
do not appear to have been heard, till after prayer has 
been exchanged for praise. These considerations, as well 
as the appropriate promises of the word of God, ought to 
induce Christian parents to commence their work of in- 
struction with the first dawn of intelligence, and not to be 
dispirited because they do not soon reap a visible harvest 
of success. To this, as to other departments of service, 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 37 

the language of inspiration is applicable : " In the morn* 
ing, sow thy seed, and in the evening, withhold not thy 
hand : for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either 
this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good." 

At five years of age he went to school, and, from having 
a remarkably sweet and melodious voice, soon became an 
object of interest as one of the finest readers among his 
juvenile associates. Shortly after, also, he was sent to a 
Sabbath evening-school, there to receive instruction of a 
more strictly religious nature than can be communicated in 
the seminaries of every day instruction. At this school he 
remained, I believe, with occasional interruptions, till a 
short time before he went to the University. 

My young friend was indebted to Sabbath-school in- 
struction, in a degree which cannot be fully ascertained or 
known in this world. There his mind was richly stored 
with divine truth, the full benefit of which did not appear 
at the time, but afterwards, in the rapidity with which he 
grew in knowledge after he felt the full power of the gos- 
pel. There those principles were implanted and strength- 
ened, which tended to preserve him when he was exposed, 
an unguarded boy, to the imminent" temptations of a Uni- 
versity. There those moral feelings were first touched, 
which, in due time, arrived at that degree of sensitiveness, 
as to be incapable of bearing what was evil, and of relish- 
ing, in the most exquisite manner, all that was lovely, 
and pure, and excellent. 

From the English school, he passed, in his ninth year, 
into the Grammar school, then conducted by a respectable 
scholar, Mr. Dick, under whose care, and that of his suc- 
cessor, Mr. Moncur, he remained four years. I have little 
to remark during this period of his life ; but that he made 
4 



38 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

distinguished progress in acquaintance with the classics is 
evident from the prizes which he obtained, and from the 
appearance, which he made when he first entered St. An- 
drew's, of which notice will afterwards be taken. 

I am not aware of all the prizes which he gained during 
the time of his attending the Grammar school ; but, in 
1820, he obtained the second prize at the fourth class ; 
and in the following year, the last of his attendance, the 
second prize at the first class. 

When it is remembered, that he was only thirteen years 
of age when he left school, it will not appear surprising, 
notwithstanding his future eminence, that I have nothing 
of sufficient importance to mention during this period of 
his life. He was remarkably lively and good tempered, 
when a boy; and enjoyed, I believe, the general good-will 
and affection of his school-fellows. As he acquired every- 
thing with great facility, study was in general no labour to 
him. But during the last part of his attendance on Mr. 
Moncur's classes, he was very diligent ; as he frequently 
rose at four or five o'clock in the morning, to prepare the 
lesson for the day. I forget how many books of Virgil he 
professed, besides other things, at the last examination ; 
but I know the number was considerable. Though the 
ardour, or rather enthusiasm, of Mr. Moncur, in inspiring 
his pupils with the loftiest ambition of classical eminence, 
was extraordinary, and the effects of it, on the students, 
wonderful, John acquitted himself so well, that he carried 
off the second prize. The best account I can give of his 
progress, and of the esteem in which he was held by those 
who knew him, at this time, has been furnished me by his 
intimate friend, Mr. Alexander Duff, who was his associate 
in study for several years, in Perth, and during all the 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 39 

time he spent at St. Andrew's. It confirms my own state- 
ment, which was written previously to receiving it. He 
writes me as follows : — 

" I first became acquainted with John Urquhart in the 
year 1820, at the Grammar school of Perth. Early in the 
year 1821, I entered into habits of the most intimate 
friendship with him, and scarcely a day passed without 
pur being in each other's company for several hours, till 
the vacation of the school in the end of July. We gene- 
rally prepared our lessons together ; and thus, I had full 
opportunity of marking the dawn of that intellectual supe- 
riority which he afterwards exhibited. With almost intui- 
tive perception could he discern the truth of many a 
proposition, which, to an ordinary mind, is the result of 
painful and laborious investigation. And finely could he 
discriminate between the truth and falsehood of many a 
statement which was embellished with all the alluring 
drapery of a poet's fancy. With singular acuteness could 
he estimate the real weight and value of an argument : and 
with an ease and readiness, far beyond ordinary, could he 
unravel the intricacies and discover the true meaning of 
a difficult and disputed passage in the classics. The in- 
genuity of some of his conjectures regarding the import 
of a sentence, and the derivation of certain words, was, 
I distinctly remember, highly applauded by his teacher. 
With a mind thus richly endowed by nature, he prose- 
cuted his classical studies with the greatest fervour and 
perseverance ; and though far inferior to the majority of 
his class-fellows in years, he uniformly appeared among 
the foremost in the race of distinction. During the sum- 
mer of 1821, he was singularly active. For the most part, 



40 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

he rose every morning between three and four o'clock, and 
directly issued forth to enjoy its sweets. And should you, 
at any time, during the course of the morning, cast your 
eyes along that beautiful extensive green, the North Inch 
of Perth, you could not fail to observe, in the distance, 
this interesting youth moving along the surface like a 
shadow wholly unbound to it ; sometimes in the attitude 
of deepest meditation, and sometimes perusing the strains 
of the Mantuan bard, which afforded him peculiar pleasure. 
Some of the fruits of these early perambulations, when 
most of his school-mates were enjoying the slumbers of 
repose, appeared in his having committed entirely to 
memory, four of the largest books of the iEneid. He was 
highly esteemed by all who attended the school. For, 
W T hile his superior intellectual attainments commanded 
their admiration, that amiable simplicity and guileless in- 
nocence, which formed such predominating features in his 
character, necessarily commanded their love. You never 
heard him utter a harsh or unbecoming expression ; you 
never saw him break forth into violent passion ; you never 
had to reprove him for associating with bad companions, 
nor for engaging in improper amusements. In every 
innocent pastime for promoting the health, in every play- 
ful expedient for whetting the mental powers, none more 
active than he : but in all the little brawls and turmoils 
that usually agitate youthful associations, there was one 
whom you might safely reckon upon not having any share. 
And yet, with all his talents, and amiableness, and sim- 
plicity, I cannot venture positively to affirm, that there 
appeared, at that time, anything like a decided appearance 
of vital Christianity in the heart. One thing I can affirm, 
that, in our daily and long-continued conversations, reli- 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 41 

gious topics did not form a considerable, or rather, any 
part of them. The love of what was good, and abhorrence 
of what was evil, had been so habitually inculcated from 
childhood, that the cherishing of these feelings might seem 
to have acquired the strength of a constitutional tendency ; 
and the abandonment of them would have been like the 
violent breaking up of an established habit ; still at this 
very time, the hand of God might have been silently, 
though efficaciously working. It is not for us to decide 
on those secret things that belong to the Lord. But, at 
whatever period the life of faith truly commenced, I be- 
lieve it to be the fact, that his progress in it was so 
gradual and imperceptible as to elude observation." g 

Being still too young to be trusted alone at a University, 
and at a distance from his father's house, it became a 
question, how to dispose of his time for at least a year 
longer. After consulting with other friends and myself, 
his father determined on sending him to the Perth Academy 
for one session. Here, under the instruction of Mr. Adam 
Anderson,* a gentleman well known for his high scien- 
tific attainments, and Mr. Forbes,f now the successor of 
the Rev. Dr. Gordon, in Hope Park Chapel, Edinburgh, 
he prosecuted those studies in the mathematics, in natural 
philosophy, chemistry, and other branches which have 
been long and successfully taught at that respectable semi- 
nary. He received, at the end of the session, the first prize 

* Late Professor of Natural Philosophy, in the University of St. 
Andrew's. 
t Now Rev. Dr. Forbes, one of the ministers of the Free Church, 

Glasgow. 

4* 



42 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 



in the second class ; and another prize for the best con- 
structed maps. 

This last circumstance induces me to mention that there 
was great neatness in everything which was done by my 
young friend. He possessed the love of order and ele- 
gance in a very remarkable degree. It appeared in the 
arrangement of his little library, in the keeping of all his 
things, in attention to his person ; and, in short, in all 
that was capable of evincing the possession of a mind 
perspicacious, well balanced, and sensitively alive to 
everything ridiculous or offensive. 

^ Hitherto no serious impressions on his mind had become 
apparent. That he was not altogether without them, 
appears from references made to this period of his history 
at a future time. His constant association with religious 
people, the preaching of the gospel which he regularly 
attended, in connection with his peculiarly impressible 
mind, must have subjected him to occasional convictions, 
which, though not permanent, prepared him in a measure 
for the deep impressions which were afterwards made upon 
him. The death of Mr. Moncur, the master of the Gram- 
mar school, under exceedingly painful circumstances, ap- 
pears also to have deeply affected him. But the time had 
not yet come, when the full view of his own character, and 
of the grace and power of the gospel, were to be expe- 
rienced. 

Few persons have been placed in the same circumstances 
with young Urquhart, without feeling certain religious 
emotions ; though, alas, in a vast majority, those feelings 
are subsequently entirely erased, or only remain in a very 
faint and inefficient remembrance. Association with the 
world ; the pursuits of business or pleasure ; or ; what the 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 43 

Scriptures admirably denominate, " The lust of the flesh, 
the lust of the eye, and the pride of life," cause many a 
fair " blossom to go up as dust," and destroy hopes of the 
most flattering nature. But when it pleases God to cause 
these early convictions to take root, and ripen, the future 
life of the individual is often remarkably blessed. His 
earliest and best years are devoted to the enjoyment and 
service of Christ ; if cut off soon, it must be matter of re- 
joicing that his youth was given to God ; if spared long, 
he has the delightful privilege of obtaining a full reward. 



44 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 



CHAPTER II. 

Difficulties in determining his profession — He is sent to the Uni- 
versity of St. Andrew's — Letter to his father, giving an account 
of his gainiug the first bursary — Letter to his mother — His suc- 
cess at the end of the first session — Mr. Duff's observations on his 
conduct at this time — Eeturn to St. Andrew's — Letter, giving an 
account of his early impressions, and change of mind — Remarks 
on this subject — His views of Christian fellowship — Success at 
the end of his second session. 

The period had now come when it was necessary to de- 
termine the future career of this interesting boy. Various 
objects presented themselves to the minds of his anxious 
parents. They thought of the professions of the law, and 
of medicine, and perhaps of another profession also, though 
they feared to avow it, especially to himself. It is not 
improbable that his own mind was directed to the minis- 
try ; but as he had given no decided indications of piety, 
neither his father nor myself encouraged him to think of 
it. Convinced of the deep injury done to religion, by the 
education of men for the ministry, who afford no evidence 
that they themselves know the truth as it is in Jesus, I 
consider the encouragement of such persons, the greatest 
wrong which can be done to their own souls, and to the 
Church of Christ. In some instances, it is true, the sal- 
vation of the gospel is afterwards received by them ; in 
numerous instances it is altogether and finally rejected, 
although the most solemn obligations are submitted to, to 
preach it ; and in many cases there is reason to fear, a 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 45 

cold orthodoxy is all that is ever attained. Under the 
influence of these causes, Christianity has sustained more 
injury than from all other things. The ruin of any church 
may be dated from the time that it commences the train- 
ing of men avowedly for the ministry, from their infancy. 

This is a different matter from a Christian parent, de- 
voting, in his own mind, to the work of God, a promising 
youth, provided he shall become a partaker of divine grace. 
In that case, it will be his duty to give him such an educa- 
tion as his circumstances admit, and which may eventually 
further the object of his wishes. Such were the views 
with which I tendered my advice to the elder Mr. Urqu- 
hart, respecting the education and prospects of his son. 
I was powerfully convinced, that, should it please God to 
call him to the knowledge of himself, he had all the ele- 
ments of an accomplished and attractive preacher. He 
had a fine voice, a pleasing address and appearance, be- 
sides being remarkably fond of knowledge, and diligent in 
its pursuit. To himself I said nothing ; but I pointed out 
these things to his father, and convinced him of the im- 
portance of giving his son such an education, as might suit 
any of the professions in which the knowledge of literature 
is required. To everything except study, he always mani- 
fested great reluctance or aversion ; so that the path of 
duty to send him to St. Andrew's became at length clear. 

The high satisfaction which this afforded to John was 
very evident. The buoyancy and vivacity of youth, no 
doubt, appeared, in the prospect of going to a new scene, 
especially as that scene was a University. But he was to 
be placed among those to whom he was almost an entire 
stranger, to be separated from his own family, which he 
had never before left, except for a few days together, and 



46 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUEART. 

to be made, in a great measure, his own master. These 
considerations could not fail to make on his delicate mind, 
some painful impression. 

His parents, too, could not but feel the risk to which 
they were exposed, though he had hitherto conducted him- 
self with much propriety and success. He possessed a 
large portion of good sense for his years. He was exceed- 
ingly steady and persevering in all his habits ; and was 
ardently set on rising to eminence in some honourable 
department of life. But he was yet a boy ; having only 
completed his fourteenth year. To many temptations he 
was now to be exposed, from which he had before been ex- 
empted, or the influence of which had been in a degree 
counteracted. Dangers of a very formidable kind fre- 
quently assail an inexperienced youth, not only from the 
associates of his academical pursuits, but from some of 
those pursuits themselves. But the election had been 
made; it was therefore necessary to commit him to the 
care and blessing of God. 

I feel pleasure in remembering, that, with his father, I 
accompanied him to St. Andrew's, and thus far assisted 
in introducing him to that scene of usefulness, and per- 
haps, in the best sense, I might say, of glory, in which he 
was destined to act a conspicuous and an important part. 
Lodgings of the humble kind, which are generally occu- 
pied by the young men who attended that University, 
whose circumstances and prospects are not of a superior 
description, were provided for him. The respective pro- 
fessors on whose lectures he was to attend, were spoken 
to, and he was commended especially to the watchful care 
of my respected friend, the Rev. William Lothian, minis- 
ter of the Independent congregation, whose ministerial 



MEMOIR OF JOHN UBQTJHART. 47 

labours he was to enjoy, on the Lord's day. Of that gen- 
tleman's kind and affectionate attentions, John ever spoke 
with great warmth ; and to him he was indebted for much 
useful instruction, in private as well as in public. 

Here I cannot allow the opportunity to pass without 
bearing my public and decided testimony to the liberal 
principles on which the Universities of my native country 
are conducted. At these important establishments, no 
distinction of party is acknowledged. They are open to 
men of all professions. No subscription is required at en- 
trance or in any stage of future progress. Their highest 
honours are attainable by the Dissenter as well as by the 
Churchman ; and, in the distribution of their rewards, I 
am not aware that any difference is made in consequence 
of the candidate not being of the established faith. At 
St. Andrew's all the students are required to attend public 
worship on the Lord's day, at the College church ; but a 
young man has only to signify that he is a Dissenter, and 
that he means to attend regularly at the dissenting chapel 
or meeting-house, and his attendance with his fellow- 
students is at once dispensed with. It is due to both 
parties that I should state, that John Urquhart entered 
the College of St. Andrew's as the son of dissenting 
parents ; * while there, he regularly attended a dissenting 
meeting, and became a regular member of a Dissenting 
Church ; he left it with a mind unaffected on the subject 
of dissent ; and throughout his course of study, he received 
from all the professors, the most marked and affectionate 
treatment. Of their kind and honourable conduct, he 
always spoke with the warmest respect and gratitude. 
; Of this impartiality he had soon a very substantial proof. 
* Of the Congregational body. 



48 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

Contrary to the wishes of his father, he was determined 
to offer himself as a candidate for one of the exhibitions, 
or bursaries, as they are termed, in Scotland ; most of 
which have been left for the encouragement of young men 
at the commencement of their college career, with a view 
to help them to defray the expenses of it. Though the 
sum is usually small, it has often proved highly beneficial ; 
not merely in aiding those whose resources are rather 
limited, but in exciting and stimulating the successful can- 
didate to further exertion. The effect produced in this 
way on the mind of my young friend, I have no doubt, 
was both considerable and beneficial. But, as happily his 
own account of his trial and his success remains, I shall 
allow him to tell the story of his first adventure himself. 
In a letter to his father, dated St. Andrew's, 7th of No- 
vember, 1822, he writes as follows : — 

" My Dear Father — The bursaries are at last decided. 
Tuesday was the day appointed for the competition ; we 
met accordingly, at ten o'clock in the morning, and got a 
passage to translate from Latin into English, which we 
gave in at two o'clock. We were then allowed an hour 
for dinner, and assembled again at three, when we had 
another version to turn from English into Latin, which we 
finished about six o'clock. We were then, without getting 
out, locked up in a room to wait till we were called in our 
turn to be examined upon an extempore sentence. I was 
not called upon till near eleven, when I was dismissed for 
that night. The professors met yesterday to determine 
the bursaries, from the exercises that had been performed 
the day before. There were no less than thirty-three com- 
petitors, and as I knew many of them to be very good 



MEMOIR OF JOHN IT It Q IT H A R T. 49 

scholars, from their answers in the public classes, I had 
given up all hopes of getting one. You may then judge 
of my very agreeable disappointment, on going last night 
to know the determination, to hear that I had gained the 
first bursary. I could not believe it till we, who had 
got bursaries were called in, and informed of it by the 
Principal. 

" I began my letter with the decision of the bursaries, 
^ind have dwelt on them so long, because I thought it 
would be the most agreeable intelligence I could com- 
municate. The whole four bursaries are equal in regard 
to value, being each eight pounds a session, for four years, 
if the person continues at the College for that time. It 
has certainly greatly relieved my mind, as my expenses 
here will now be comparatively easy. I was very dull, of 
course, for the first two or three days I was here, but since 
Alexander Duff came, I have been happy enough with my 
situation. I feel every comfort that I could have at home, 
excepting the presence of my friends. Mr. Lothian has 
been unremitting in his kindness to me ever since I came." 

This letter shows satisfactorily the attainments he must 
have made, when at the early age of fourteen, he could 
gain the first bursary among thirty-three competitors, the 
great body of whom must have been much further advanced 
in life than himself. It affords evidence, also, of that 
spirit of exertion and independence which distinguished 
him to the last. It was his desire to be as little burden- 
some to his parents as possible ; and everything which 
enabled him to diminish that burden, he grasped at with 
avidity. His wants were very easily supplied ; and could 
I, with propriety, communicate the details and evidence 
5 



50 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

of his economy, which are now before me, I am sure they 
would excite no ordinary degree of surprise. Possessed, 
even at this early period, of a generous and self-denying 
spirit, he nobly sacrificed everything which it was possible 
for him to give up, so that the expense of his education 
might affect as little as possible the other branches of the 
family. 

The time of a young man attending the classes of a 
University must be so fully occupied, that it would be 
foolish to expect that much of it should be spent in letter 
writing. Besides, many letters may be written which con- 
tain nothing that would be proper to meet the public eye. 

The following extract from a letter to his mother, dis- 
covers his affection for her, gives some account of his em- 
ployments, and shows how busily and constantly he was 
engaged. 

" St. Andrew's, December 12, 1822. 

" My Dear Mother — I confess that I ought to have 
written to you before now ; I shall make no excuse for not 
doing so ; but shall only say, that it by no means pro- 
ceeded from forgetfulness or neglect of you. If there is 
any one of you that I remember more than another, you 
are that one ; and, indeed, I must be kept in constant re- 
membrance of you, by the comforts you are sending me 
every opportunity. The flannels, &c, which you sent last, 
were very acceptable ; the mittens you sent me were also 
very seasonable ; but I hope you were not, in any way, 
depriving yourself of them for my sake ; for, if I thought 
so, I could have no pleasure in wearing them. 

" 1 was happy to hear by my father's last letter, that 
you were keeping free of your complaint. I hope you are 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 51 

still so ; and David * also. I always feel a kind of uneasi- 
ness in being absent from you all ; but to hear that you 
are all well removes the greater part of it. For my part, 
I am keeping my health better here than ever I did before. 
I have not had the slightest head-ache. This, I am con- 
vinced, proceeds in a great measure from regularity. 
Every hour is employed much in the same manner every 
day. My meals are also strictly measured in the same 
quantity. I rise every day at seven o'clock, (with candle- 
light of course,) go to the Greek class at eight, and remain 
there till nine ; take my breakfast and go to the library 
between nine and ten ; go to the mathematics from ten to 
eleven ; the Greek again from eleven to twelve ; take a 
walk between twelve and one ; go to Latin from one to 
two ; dine between two and three ; study till four ; take a 
walk between four and five ; and am in the house the rest 
of the night : you have thus a history of the time I have 
spent since I came here. 

" This has been a very dry letter, but you may expect a 
better next. 

" And believe me to be, 
" Your very affectionate and obedient son." 

By the same conveyance, he wrote his eldest brother a 
playful letter, enclosing a plan of St. Andrew's, sketched 
with his pen, with very considerable accuracy and neatness. 

He paid a visit of a few days to Perth, during the 
Christmas vacation of College, and returned to prosecute 
his studies with increasing ardour and diligence. When 
the end of the session arrived, he bore off the silver medal, 
which is the highest prize of the junior Greek class, which 

* His eldest brother. 



52 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUKART. 

he attended. He also received "Xenophon de Cyri Expe- 
ditione," as a prize in the junior Latin class. In the 
senior mathematical class, taught by Professor Duncan, 
he obtained " Simpson's Conic Sections/' as one of the 
prizes ; but which in order, I have not ascertained. This 
success could not fail to be flattering to a young and 
ardent mind ; yet I do not recollect that he seemed much 
elated by it on his return. He seldom spoke of himself; 
and though to me he was accustomed to speak freely, he 
rarely adverted to his exertions, and scarcely at all to the 
honours which he had obtained. 

I have reason to believe, indeed, that the good work 
was slowly and imperceptibly going on in his soul. I know 
that he was then in the habit of reading the Scriptures 
regularly every day, and that he and his companion fre- 
quently joined together in prayer. His uniform correct- 
ness of conduct and regularity in attending the means of 
grace on Sabbath, encouraged the hope that a decided 
profession of religion would be made at no distant period. 
In such a case as his, no very marked or visible transition 
could take place. His mind, familiar from infancy with 
divine truth, had not to acquire a theoretical knowledge 
of it. Not the intellectual perception of the gospel, but 
the moral taste for its beauty and adaptation, was the 
thing required. The former is a mere human attainment, 
the latter is the doing of the Lord. Man may cultivate 
and enlarge the understanding ; but God only can touch 
and renovate the heart. Our expectations in regard to 
this were not disappointed. 

The following extract of a letter from his companion 
Mr. Duff, confirms these observations, and shows what a 
change must afterwards have taken place. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 53 

"During the session of College at St. Andrew's, in 
1822-3, he and I lodged together in the same room. He 
was still the same John Urquhart, though more ripened in 
intellect, and, if possible, more amiable in deportment. 
He attended the junior Greek and Latin classes, and the 
second mathematical class. He gained the first prize in 
the Greek, a prize in each of the competitions in the Latin, 
and a prize in the Mathematics ; all this he accomplished 
with little labour or exertion. He spent much time in 
reading books from the public library : of what description 
these generally were, I do not now remember ; but one he 
read and re-read with peculiar satisfaction, ' The Memoirs 
and Writings of Henry Kirke White.' He took great 
delight in walking along the sea-shore, and exploring the 
rocks which so abound in the neighbourhood of the town. 
Throughout the whole session we regularly engaged in 
the worship of God morning and evening ; but I fear there 
was much coldness, and much formality in almost every 
exercise. With neither of us I fear, was religion then 
made the great object. There was little appearance of the 
savour and unction of divine, little appearance of real joy 
and delight in communion with God, little in short, to 
manifest the earnest longing, the devout aspiration, the 
holy zeal of him whose piety is deeply rooted in the heart, 
and tinctures more or less with its own sacredness, every 
thought and feeling, every word and action. The Bible 
was read, but I fear that the spiritual meaning of the 
Bible was not understood, and the subduing power of its 
doctrines not felt. Prayers were regularly offered ; but I 
fear that the real spirit of prayer was wanting — the fer- 
vent outpouring of the heart to God. The wonders of re- 
deeming love formed but a small share of our discourse : 
5* 



54 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQU,HART, 

our own individual interest in the great salvation, formed 
not a prominent subject of eager inquiry and anxious 
examination. In this manner passed the session of 1822-3, 
without any remarkable incident.' ' 

He passed the following summer at home with his 
friends, without any circumstance occurring worthy of 
notice ; and in the beginning of November, 1823, returned 
to St. Andrew's to attend his second College course. 
Scarcely any of his correspondence during this session 
remains. He appears to have been very busily engaged 
in his various studies ; and yet it was towards the close 
of this period, that he was led to make that decided pro- 
fession of religion, which he was enabled to maintain to 
the last. I cannot express the gratification I felt on re- 
ceiving the following letter from him ; and which, notwith- 
standing its peculiar references to myself, I hope I shaft 
be forgiven for presenting entire. I had not previously 
heard of his taking the step to which it refers. 

"St. Andrew's, April 13, 1824. 
" My Dear Sir — It is with feelings of a very peculiar 
nature, that I sit down at present to write to you. Since 
I saw you last I have been admitted a member of a Chris- 
tian Church. I determined to write to you at present for 
several reasons. I have long considered you as one of 
my best friends, and as a sincere servant and follower of 
Jesus Christ ; and your preaching was the first instrument 
in the hand of God, of leading me to think seriously of 
an eternal world. To you, therefore, I have determined 
to reveal every feeling, and to open the recesses of my 
heart. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN UEQUHAKT. 55 

" My first impressions of danger, as a sinner, were 
caused by a sermon you preached on a Lord's day even- 
ing, about a year and a half ago. At the time, I was 
very much affected ; it was then I think, that I first really 
prayed. I retired to my apartment, and with many tears 
confessed my guilt before God. These impressions were 
followed by some remarkable events in the providence of 
God, which struck me very forcibly. About that time, I 
had a proof of the inability of earthly wisdom and learn- 
ing to confer true happiness, by the melancholy death of 
Mr. Moncur. On leaving my father's house to come here, 
shortly after, I felt myself in a peculiar manner dependent 
on Jehovah. I was removed from the care of my earthly 
father, and from the intercourse of my earthly friends ; 
and I felt great pleasure in committing myself to him who 
is the father of the fatherless, and a friend to those that 
have none. My companion used to join me morning and 
evening in the reading of the Scriptures, and prayer. 
In these, and in attending on the more public exercises of 
God's worship, I had some enjoyment, and from them, I 
think, I derived some advantage. On my return home, 
however, last summer, I began to feel less pleasure in 
these employments ; they began to be a weariness to me, 
and were at last almost totally neglected. My soul re- 
verted to its original bent, and the follies of this world 
wholly engrossed my attention. Had I been left in that 
state, I must have inevitably perished. But God is rich 
in mercy ; he delighteth not in the death of the wicked. 
In his infinite mercy, he has again been pleased to call my 
attention to the things of eternity. For some months 
back, I have been led to see the utter worthlessness of 



56 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

earthly things ; to see that happiness is not to be found in 
any earthly object; that 

" ' Learning, pleasure, wealth, and fame, 
All cry out, It is not here/ 

And I think I have been led to seek it where alone it is to 
be found, in i Jesus crucified for me.' I have felt great 
pleasure in communion with God ; and I have felt some 
love, though faint, to the Saviour, and to his cause. I 
have had a long struggle with the w r orld ; I have counted 
the cost, and I have at last resolved that I will serve the 
Lord. I have long been kept back from openly professing 
my faith in Jesus from an apprehension lest my future 
conduct might bring disgrace on the religion of the 
Saviour. But I have begun to think that this proceeds, 
in a great measure, from self-confidence, and from not 
trusting implicitly to the promises of God. He that hath 
brought me thus far, will not now forsake me ; he that hath 
begun a good work will perfect it until the end. 

" On Thursday s'ennight, after imploring the Divine 
direction, I felt it my duty to apply for admission to a 
Christian Church ; since then, I have conversed with two 
of the members ; and, being proposed last Lord's day, I 
was received into their number. I have thus, my dear sir, 
as far as I can, related to you without reserve, my various 
feelings, and my state of mind since I first was impressed 
with a sense of the importance of religion. I have yet 
many doubts whether I have been really renewed by the 
grace of God. Of this my future life must be the test. I 
see many temptations in my way, and I feel that I am not 
able in myself to withstand them. May God perfect his 
strength in my weakness, and may he enable me to live 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 57 

henceforth, not to myself, but to him who died for me, 
and who rose again ; to offer my body a living sacrifice, 
and to devote all the faculties of my mind to his service. 
And now, my dear sir, pray for me, that he who is able 
to stablish me according to the preaching of Christ Jesus, 
may keep me from falling, and make me in the end more 
than a conqueror. At present, farewell; I hope to see 
you soon. Give compliments to Mrs. Orme, to my parents, 
and all friends." 

U P. S. You may, perhaps, think I have been rash in 
joining myself to the church here, when I have a prospect 
of returning to you in so short a time. I can only say 
that I felt it my duty to apply immediately, that I have 
before experienced the danger of procrastination, and that 
I consider it much the same whether I be in the first 
instance to be connected with the church here, or with 
that in Perth, and that our friends here were all of the 
same opinion. In connecting myself with that body of 
Christians, to which you and my parents belong, I think I 
have not been influenced by the prejudices of education, 
but a sense of duty, and the writings of the apostles them- 
selves." 

This letter bears all the marks of the most ingenuous 
and candid disclosures of the leadings of Providence, and 
the workings of his own mind. It shows the gradual and 
pleasing manner in which he had been led to receive and 
obey the truth ; and that although he had been much en- 
gaged in literary and scientific pursuits, and ardently 
attached to them, the powerful operations of the divine 
Spirit had carried forward the process of illumination and 



58 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

conviction, till it at last issued in his decided conversion 
to God. His reasons for taking the step which he had 
adopted, were those by which he appears to have been in- 
variably influenced in his religious course. He first sought 
to ascertain what was the will of God ; and on arriving at 
a satisfactory conclusion on this point, he was then pre- 
pared to encounter all difficulties which stood in the way 
of full compliance with it. He delayed not, but hastened 
to keep the commandment. 

How much it is to be regretted that prudential con- 
siderations, or sinful timidity, induce many individuals, 
long after they have received the truth, to keep at a dis- 
tance from the fellowship and ordinances of the Church of 
Christ. Instead of looking at the command of God, and 
considering the shortness and uncertainty of human life, 
they allow year after year to pass away in inquiring and 
doubting ; or resolving and calculating, instead of deciding 
and acting. The consequences are a deprivation of per- 
sonal comfort, to a great extent ; the formation of habits 
most unfavourable to the decision of religious character, 
and injuries of various kinds being done to the souls of 
others. 

It is as clear as possible, that at the beginning, no 
sooner did men believe the gospel, than they associated 
together for the observance of all the institutions appointed 
by Christ in his Church. There was then no neutral 
ground on which they could stand, between the world and 
the Church of God. No man. is recognized in the New 
Testament as a Christian, who is not a member of a Chris- 
tian society. Yet not a few can reconcile themselves 
to remain in the perfectly anomalous situation of doing 
all that Christianity seems to require, but making that 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 59 

profession of it which lies at the foundation of every- 
thing else. 

I am aware that human barriers have sometimes been 
presented, by which some have been improperly kept at a 
distance from the fellowship of the gospel, who ought to 
have been welcomed into it. But I fear, in the majority 
of instances, the evil is to be traced to erroneous ideas of 
the gospel, inadequate impressions of divine authority, and 
to a want of that firm and decided principle, which, wherever 
it exists, will conquer trivial and even considerable diffi- 
culties. Providence is frequently pleaded as an excuse, 
while its arrangements are only putting our sincerity and 
principles to the test. As he who observeth the clouds 
will not sow, so he that will not go forward in doing the 
will of God till all difficulties are removed out of the way, 
will always find something to hinder him. 

The plea set up by many, that they are afraid they may 
be left to bring disgrace on religion, is admirably adverted 
to by my young friend. A more superficial thinker would 
have ascribed this feeling to humility and self-distrust; 
he, with nicer discrimination, ascribes it to self-confidence. 
Provided our obedience were in any instance the result 
of our own strength, we might be justified in exercising 
delay on this principle. But as from first to last we are 
called to depend on the strength of another, the case is 
very different. He who enables us to believe, and flee 
from the wrath to come, will assuredly preserve us from 
dishonouring him, if our confidence is properly reposed. 
Many refuse to believe in Christ, on the plea that their 
sins are too great for them to hope that they may be for- 
given. This they call humility; while in fact it is the 
deceitful operation of pride. It is obvious that if they 



60 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

thought they were better, they would not feel the same 
difficulty ; because they could then come to Christ with 
greater confidence of acceptance. Many think they are 
not good enough to observe the Lord's Supper ; as if the 
observance of it ought to be suspended on their goodness 
or merit. It is intended exclusively for Christians ; but 
under that denomination, it includes all of every grade in 
the profession, who really know and love the Lord. It is 
designed, not for the perfect, but as the means of promot- 
ing perfection in those who are aiming to attain it. It is 
intended, not for the full, but for the empty soul ; and will 
always prove useful in invigorating the life of godliness. 

The following extract of a letter written long after, to 
the Rev. W. Lothian, pastor of the church which he 
joined, both illustrates his grateful feelings, and his strong 
attachment to the church under his care. 

a I am chargeable with many faults, and carelessness is 
not among the least of them. I will not offer any apology, 
or pretend to make an excuse for not writing sooner, for 
my own conscience condemns me. But be assured it has 
not proceeded from a want of Christian love, or a forget- 
fulness of the many spiritual blessings I have enjoyed 
under your ministry, and in communion with the church 
under your care, or the many acts of kindness shown 
me by many of its members. No ! I will never forget 
St. Andrew's ; and the place where first I professed 
myself a follower of the Lord, and the little body of 
Christians who first gave me the right hand of fellow- 
ship, will be remembered with lively gratitude and de- 
light, when the associations of literary and social inter- 
course shall have been effaced, by the impression of other 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 61 

scenes, and different pursuits. How different is our friend- 
ship from that of the world ! Distance of time and place 
cannot weaken it, since neither can remove us from Christ. 
So long as we love him who begat, so long shall we love 
those who are begotten of him ; and coldness of love to 
our Christian brethren can only be produced by luke- 
warmness in our love to God. Forgive my wandering ; I 
sometimes forget that I am writing a letter." 

"The account which he gave," says Mr. Lothian, "of 
his religious views and experience, on being received into 
church, was very satisfactory, and discovered great know- 
ledge of the Scriptures in one so young. He particularly 
mentioned the advantage he had derived from parental 
instruction, and from hearing the gospel faithfully preached. 
I thought it my duty to remind him, that by casting in 
his lot with us, he would be deprived of that patronage 
which might otherwise have held out to him prospects of 
temporal advancement. He, however, said, that he had 
examined the subject for himself, and could not conscien- 
tiously unite himself to any other body of Christians." 

The propriety of Mr. Lothian's caution will appear when 
we reflect on the tender years of young Urquhart, on his 
highly promising talents, on the temptations incident to a 
college life, and on the little inducement which he could have, 
under such circumstances, to connect himself with a small, 
and in the city of St. Andrew's, a despised independent 
church. Difficult as the circumstances were, he maintained 
his consistency and integrity of character to the last. And 
such was the power of principle, and his attachment to the 
body to which he belonged, that when on his leaving St. 
6 



62 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

Andrew's, a very desirable situation was put in his power, 
he would not accept of it, till the parties were informed 
that he was a Dissenter, and that the full liberty to act 
according to his own principles was the sine qua non of 
his acceptance. I mention these things chiefly as evi- 
dences of his sincerity, decision, and steadiness. 

Important as these matters were, it must not be sup- 
posed that he was so absorbed by them as to neglect his 
professional studies. The best evidence of the contrary is 
furnished by the fact, that at the end of the session, wliich 
took place after he joined the church at St. Andrew's, he 
obtained again some of the best prizes. A second time he 
received the silver medal, as the best scholar in the senior 
Greek class ; and also the second prize, " Xenophon de 
Cyri Institutione," in the same class. In the third mathe- 
matical class, he also obtained one of the best prizes. His 
distinguished attainments as a Greek scholar, were thus 
noticed by Professor Alexander : " He prosecuted his 
studies with unremitting assiduity; evinced talents and 
attainments in Greek literature of the first order ; and in 
each session carried off, as he well merited, the highest 
prize of distinguished scholarship.' ' 

On his return home, I had the opportunity of convers- 
ing fully with him on the nature of his religious views, the 
great change which had taken place in him, and the object 
which he was now led to pursue. I found his mind, as I 
expected, devoted to the Christian ministry; and it now 
became my pleasing duty to encourage his resolution, and 
direct his reading with a view to that object. Possessing, 
as he evidently did, the leading qualifications to form a 
popular preacher, I hailed the day when it might be my 
privilege to introduce him in some form to the elevated 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHAET. 63 

and responsible employment of the ministry. I forget 
whether he then said much, or anything to me respecting 
the object to which he finally directed all his attention, 
the work of a Christian missionary. I entertain little doubt, 
however, that he then thought of it ; but as my views of 
his talents led me to think of the home, rather than of 
the foreign service, I must have chiefly directed his mind 
towards the former. 

While he was at home during this vacation, he wrote an 
essay on the Nature and Design of the Mission of the 
Saviour on Earth, intended, I believe, for some magazine, 
which promised a prize for the best essay on the subject. 
I remember that he showed it me ; but I am unable to say 
whether he sent it. His accurate knowledge of the gospel, 
and the ease with which he could express himself respect- 
ing its nature and design are here strikingly illustrated. 
I believe it is the first piece of extended composition which 
he wrote, and cannot therefore be so perfect as some of 
his subsequent pieces. But the language requires as little 
apology as the sentiment. The former is as simple as the 
latter is dignified.* 

This paper contains a very excellent view of all the 
leading truths of the gospel. They are every one of them 
stated fairly, and are all blended together in admirable 
harmony. No undue importance or prominence is given 
to any one topic, while the practical design of the whole is 
constantly kept in view. It discovers a discrimination and 
justness of conception, as well as an extent of acquaint- 
ance with divine truth, very rarely to be found in a youth 
of sixteen. 

Even at this early period, and while so little accustomed 
* See Appendix A. 



64 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

to composition, he was above the ambition of fine writing. 
Here is no attempt at it ; and yet the language is admir- 
able for its appropriateness and simplicity. His mind was 
evidently filled with the importance of the subject; and 
from the abundance of his heart his mouth spake. His 
only object was to express himself clearly and forcibly; 
and in this he completely succeeded. 

My personal intercourse with him was shortly after this 
time brought nearly to a close. In consequence of remov- 
ing to London, our subsequent connection was maintained 
chiefly by letters. He employed himself, of his own 
accord, after my removal, for several weeks, in making 
out a catalogue of my library; classifying the books, as 
well as numbering them and registering their titles. It 
is now in my possession, and evinces, at once, his correct- 
ness and diligence, and his love for the proprietor, as it 
must have cost him considerable labour. That labour, 
however, I am sure he never thought of; it gratified, in a 
small degree, his love of books, as he amused himself by 
looking at many of them as he passed them through his 
hands ; and it afforded him the far higher gratification of 
doing an unsolicited service to a friend whom he loved. I 
now deeply, but unavailingly, regret, that my opportuni- 
ties of personal usefulness to him, were not, on my part, 
sufficiently cultivated. I too often neglected the present, 
by anticipating the future ; and thus allowed many occa- 
sions to pass away, which might have been employed in 
promoting his advancement in knowledge and piety. 
Still, I trust, that intercourse was not altogether without 
profit. He is gone before, to the region where are no 
defects. May it be my privilege to follow, and to meet 
him there at last ! 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 65 



CHAPTER III. 

Introduction to Dr. Chalmers — Attends the Moral Philosophy class 
— First appearance at this class — Letter to his father, on the 
formation of the University Missionary Society — On the same, 
and other topics — Mr. Duff's account of the progress of his reli- 
gious views — Letter to his parents, on the death of a younger 
brother — Letter to Mr. Orme, partly on the same subject — Let- 
ter to his mother — Letter to his brother — Letter to his sister — 
Letter to an afflicted friend — Letter to the same — His diligence 
at Dr. Chalmers' class — Letter to a young friend — Letter to his 
father — Success during the third session at College — View of 
John's talents and character at this time, by a fellow-student. 

Two events of considerable importance belong to his 
return to St. Andrew's, for the third session, in November, 
1824 — his introduction to Dr. Chalmers, and attendance 
on the Moral Philosophy class, taught by him ; and the 
formation of a Missionary Society among the students of 
the University. Of the Doctor, young Urquhart had long 
been a passionate admirer ; and, to be one of his pupils, 
was the object of his most ardent desire. He was too 
modest to anticipate the enjoyment of Dr. Chalmers' per- 
sonal friendship, in the high degree in which he afterwards 
enjoyed it ; but which it is evident was most gratifying to 
both parties. 

Moral Philosophy, as it has been usually taught at the 
Scottish Universities, is one of the most dangerous and 
ensnaring studies in which a young man can engage. In- 
stead of being, as the designation of the science imports, 
6* 



66 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUEART. 

the philosophy of morals, it is commonly treated as the 
philosophy of mind, and is chiefly directed to the varied 
and perplexing phenomena of mental perception and ope- 
ration. Instead of connecting ethics with the revealed 
will of God, it has too often been employed to gender 
scepticism, and foster the pride of intellect. Hume and 
Malebranche, Berkeley and Reid, are more frequently 
appealed to than the writers of the Bible ; and many a 
young man who went with his principles tolerably correct, 
if not altogether established, has left the class a sceptic, 
or a confirmed unbeliever. The occupation of this chair 
by such a man as Dr. Chalmers is of incalculable import- 
ance. It secures against the danger of those speculations 
which — 

" Lead to bewilder, and dazzle to blind," 

and provides that morals shall not become the enemy, but 
the handmaid of religion. 

With missionary objects, young Urquhart's early asso- 
ciations had made him familiar ; and his mind having be- 
come deeply impressed with the importance of eternal 
things, he was exceedingly desirous of interesting others 
in the noble object of missionary exertion. 

Of his first appearance in the Moral Philosophy class, 
and, also of the exertion which he made to accomplish the 
other object, I have been furnished with a short account, 
by his bosom friend, and contemplated associate in foreign 
labours, Mr. John Adam. The following extract from a 
letter to me relates to both : — 

"My first acquaintance with John Urquhart, com- 
menced at St. Andrew's, in the winter of 1824. I had 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 67 

gone chiefly for the sake of Dr. Chalmers' Lectures to 
that University; and, besides my brother, was totally 
unacquainted with any of the students. The first subject 
given out as an essay to the class, was on the divisions of 
philosophy. The Doctor had introduced us to his depart- 
ment of the academical course, by some general observa- 
tions on this topic. He wished us each to give an abstract 
in our own terms, before entering on the main business of 
our investigating moral philosophy. Not as yet familiar 
with any of my fellows, I was particularly struck when 
one of the youngest in the class, with simple dignity, 
(though, as he told me afterwards, with great perturba- 
tion of mind,) read an essay, which, for purity of style, for 
beauty of imagery, and a masterly delineation of thought, 
exceeded everything we had then heard. Nor could I but 
rejoice, when at the conclusion, a universal burst of admira- 
tion (which was evidently participated in by the Professor), 
proceeded from all present. I need only say, that his 
character, thus established, was maintained during the 
whole course. The decision of the prize, both by Dr. 
Chalmers and his fellow-students, awarded him the first 
honour they had it in their power to bestow. 

" Soon after his first appearance in the class, I was 
happily introduced to him, at the house of one of Mr. 
Lothian's deacons, a Mr. Smith, when he mentioned a 
plan he was then meditating : viz., to attempt the forma- 
tion of a Missionary Society, such as they had at Glas- 
'gow, which should not be confined to the Hall of The- 
ology. This project was carried into effect a few days 
after ; and a number of names having been collected from 
the Philosophy College, a junction was formed with a small 



68 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

society that had already existed amongst the students of 
divinity. 

" During the term of this session, my friendship for 
John was cemented ; and by studying together, by walks, 
and frequent intercourse, we became so attached, that, 
not to have seen one another for a few hours, was an 
extraordinary occurrence." 

In a letter to his father, of the date of November the 
3d, he communicates some particulars on the same subjects. 

" My Dear Father — I arrived safe here the same day 
I left you, and am again very comfortably settled in my 
old lodgings. 

" We have been attempting to form a Missionary So- 
ciety in our College, to co-operate with one which the 
divinity students formed last year. We do not expect 
very large contributions, and the assistance which we can 
render to the cause may be, comparatively, but trifling : 
but the great object we have in view is to obtain and cir- 
culate missionary intelligence among the students ; a thing 
which, we trust, with the blessing of God, may prove use- 
ful to themselves ; and, though not directly aiding the 
cause, may, in the end, prove highly beneficial to it. For 
this purpose, we propose holding monthly meetings for the 
purpose of reading reports, and conducting the other busi- 
ness of the society. We wish also, if possible, to collect a 
small library of books connected with the subject; and 
what I have chiefly in view in writing to you about it is, 
that you may send any reports, or sermons, or other works, 
connected with missions, which you can obtain. You may 
mention the thing to any of our friends who you think 



MEMOIR OF JOHN TJRQUHART. 69 

could favour us with any of such publications, which will 
be very thankfully received. The formation of such society 
in such circumstances is, I think, peculiarly interesting; 
and may, if properly conducted, be productive of the most 
interesting results ; and I am sure the friends of the Saviour 
will be happy to assist us in our operations. In asking 
for subscriptions, we have hitherto met with no refusals ; 
and, though we have not yet got many, I have no doubt 
but it will succeed." 

The following, written a little after this, notices the 
state of St. Andrew's, and some other things relating to 
the formation of the University Missionary Society : — 

" St. Andrew's, December 15, 1824. 

" My Dear Father — As I do not intend coming home 
at Christmas ; and, as it will be some time before I need to 
send my box, I sit down to write you a few lines at pre- 
sent. I received yours along with a parcel containing a 
new watch, about a fortnight ago ; for which I feel very 
grateful. I am as comfortably situated this year as I 
could wish. I have been introduced to some very excel- 
lent companions at Dr. Chalmers' class. The Doctor has 
brought a good number of students from other Universi- 
ties, many of them of very polished manners, and, I think, 
not a few of very decided piety. 

" The Doctor has thus not only increased the number 
of the students, (which, this year, amounts to about two 
hundred and fifty ;) but those who have come for his sake, 
being mostly of evangelical principles, he has thus, though 
indirectly, wrought a great change on the religious aspect 
of our University. It is to this chiefly, that I would attri- 



70 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

bute the success with which my efforts have been crowned, 
in attempting to form a missionary society in our College. 
We have got about forty subscribers, and have already 
had two meetings, which we purpose to continue monthly. 
There have also been formed a number of Sabbath-schools, 
one of which is taught by Dr. Chalmers himself, and the 
rest by students. And, besides this, several meetings are 
held, by select parties of students, for social worship. 
Such a change, I did not certainly expect to see in my 
day. And this has not all gone on without opposition. 
Not only were we refused a room in the College for our 
missionary meetings, but the minds of the people of the 
town are so influenced that, even yet, we are not quite 
sure of a place to meet in regularly. 

" On the whole, our College seems, at present, to present 
an aspect something similar to that of the University of 
Oxford, in the days of Hervey and Wesley. Among the 
rest of my class-fellows, there is a young man who seems 
to be very zealous in the cause of truth. He goes out to 
the country and preaches every Sabbath afternoon, at a 
place called Dunino ; a place very much neglected ; and 
on Sabbath evenings, he has a meeting of fishermen, to 
whom he preaches. 

"With all this to render me happy, the remark of the 
shepherd of Salisbury Plain is still applicable to me : that 
'Every man has his black ewe;' I have not been able to 
get any teaching," &c. 

These letters show how much his mind was now occupied 
with promoting the spirit of missionary enterprise among 
his fellow-students. Instead of wondering that he should 
have met, at first, with some opposition to his plans, when 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 71 

we consider the materials of which colleges consist, it is 
rather surprising, he should have been so successful. The 
state of religious zeal in the University of St. Andrew's, 
had, for many years, approached nearer to the freezing 
than to the boiling point. The first attempt, therefore, to 
rouse and kindle the flame, could not fail to produce a cer- 
tain degree of commotion. This, however, our young 
friend, and his associates met in a Christian manner, and 
overcame by their prudence and good sense. Dr. Chal- 
mers was early engaged in its support ; and others of the 
Professors also came afterwards to encourage it. His 
friend, Mr. Duff, gives the following account of the pro- 
gress of John's religious views and feelings at this time, 
and of his exertions in forming the Missionary Society 
among the students : — 

"At the beginning of the session of 1824-5, the traces 
of a gathering and growing piety were very observable. 
i Out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh;' and, 
accordingly, religious subjects became with him, the great, 
the constant, the delightful theme of conversation. Chris- 
tianity was not now with him, a mere round of observ- 
ances — a matter of cold and heartless formality. It 
engrossed all his thoughts, it gave a direction to all his 
actions ; and his chief concern was how to promote the 
cause of his Redeemer. One evening, early in the session, 
a few of his companions met in his room. The main topic 
of conversation was the blindness of the understanding 
and the hardness of the heart, with its entire alienation 
from God. This led to a discussion upon the influences 
of the Spirit in removing the various obstacles that oppose 
the reception of the truth as it is in Jesus. On this sub- 



72 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

ject Mr. Urquhart's thoughts were striking, and his views 
luminous. Our attention was then directed to the resist- 
ance made to the offers of the gospel by the men of the 
world, and the want of universality in its propagation. 
The efforts of enlightened Christians in publishing the 
glad tidings of salvation, and the operations of missionary 
societies, were then largely spoken of. The vast, the* 
paramount importance of this object as involving the in- 
terests of time and eternity, was acknowledged by all. 
The question was suggested, Is it not possible to form a 
Missionary Society among the students ? By some the 
idea was reckoned chimerical, from the coldness and 
apathy well known to prevail among the members of the 
University. By others, among whom was Mr. Urquhart, 
it was strenuously urged, that a vigorous effort should, at 
least, be made for the purpose of forming an association 
for the promotion of so good a cause. I cannot now state 
the precise amount of influence which Mr. Urquhart's 
arguments had on those present ; only he was most urgent 
and impressive in maintaining the propriety of the scheme, 
and its probability of success. Paper was accordingly 
produced, and the prevailing sentiments stated : the object 
being to procure a sufficient number of subscribers friendly 
to the missionary cause, to justify the formaton of a society. 
A small association of divinity students had met on the pre- 
ceding year, in a private room, with the intention of review- 
ing and supporting missions. It was suggested, therefore, 
that a union might be formed between the divinity and 
philosophy students, (in the event of the latter coming for- 
ward,) so as to form an active and efficient body of mem- 
bers. The whole scheme, so ably advocated by Mr. 
Urquhart, succeeded far beyond the most sanguine expec- 



MEMOIR OF JOHN TTRQTJHART. 73 

tatlons. And thus originated the St. Andrew's University 
Missionary Society, which now ranks among its friends 
and supporters more than one-third of all attending the 
University.'' 

As this society occupied so much of his thoughts, and 
was, in fact, productive of some very important results to 
himself and others ; and, as the mode of conducting its 
affairs was formed very much after the model of the St. 
Andrew's Missionary Society, of which Dr. Chalmers was 
the President, I am glad that I can give some account (?l 
the latter from, his pen. It was furnished to " The St. 
Andrew's University Magazine," a small monthly work, 
published by those of the young men attending the theo- 
logical and philosophy classes ; and to which Urquhart 
was an occasional' contributor. Though written the fol- 
lowing year, it may be read appropriately in connection 
with the present period of my young friend's life.* 

The interesting views and reasonings of this well-written 
paper are deserving of attention from the friends of mis- 
sions. It shows how much may be made of this subject 
by men of a discursive and philosopic turn of mind ; and 
were missionary meetings occasionally conducted in the 
manner pursued by Dr. Chalmers, they would prove more 
interesting and instructive than they often do. Consider- 
ing the period during which exertion has been made to 
propagate Christianity among the heathen, and the number 
of persons who are employed in the work, both at home 
and abroad, it is surprising that some work, on what might 
be called the philosophy of missions, has not yet appeared. 
The only things, approaching to this character, are the 

* See Appendix B. 
7 



74 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIAIIT. 

" Hints on Missions/' by Mr. Douglas, of Cavers; and 
the work on " The Advancement of Society/' by the same 
highly gifted individual. But the former of these produc- 
tions too accurately corresponds with its title, to answer 
the purpose to which I refer ; and in the other, the subject 
is only noticed as one among many. From these works, 
however, the germ of a highly valuable essay on the 
subject of Christian Missions to the heathen might be 
obtained. 

What we want is not an increase of reports of yearly 
proceedings, and arguments derived from the Scriptures, 
to persuade us that it is our duty to engage in this good 
work ; but a condensed view of the knowledge and experi- 
ence which have been acquired during the last thirty or 
forty years. What appear to be the best fields of labour ? 
— what the most successful mode of cultivating them? — 
what the kind of agency which has been most efficient, and 
least productive of disappointment? — what the best method 
of training at home, for the labours and self-denial to be 
encountered abroad ? — whether are detached and separate 
missions, or groups of missions and depots of missionaries, 
the most desirable ? These, and many other questions, 
require a mature and deliberate answer. The materials 
for such an answer exist. And can none of the officers 
whose time is wholly devoted to the management of our 
Missionary Societies furnish such a digest ? Are they so 
entirely occupied with the details of business, as to have 
no time or inclination left for looking at general princi- 
ples ? Were more attention paid to the ascertaining of 
such principles, and more vigour and consistency mani- 
fested in prosecuting them, there might be less of glare 
and noise ; but, assuredly, there would be a prodigious 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 75 

saving of labour, property, and life ; and, in the end, a 
greater degree of satisfaction and real success. 

" The first requisite in benevolent operations,'' says Mr. 
Douglas, " as in all other undertakings, is system ; a fixed- 
ness of design, and a steady adaptation of the means to the 
end. Opposite to that of system, is the pursuing of what 
are called openings, or the being caught with every change 
of circumstances and drawn by every chance of success 
into new paths of pursuit, having no connection with each 
other, and leading to remote terminations. Every step 
gained in a system, strengthens ; every step gained with- 
out it weakens. The first object acquired leads to the 
possession of the second, and that to the attainment of the 
third, if all the objects to be attained are originally chosen 
with reference to the accomplishment of a plan. Every 
new object, where there is no system, divides the already 
scattered forces ; and success, if pursued, might dissipate 
them entirely, and leave but the vain pleasure of having 
a number of defenceless stations, each calling for assist- 
ance, and all calling in vain, while the society only re- 
tained the empty boast of an extended line of operations, 
and of being equally helpless and inefficient in every quar- 
ter of the globe. On a system, each part strengthens the 
other, the line of communication is held up entire ; as each 
point is gained, the whole advances ; they are all in move- 
ment towards the same position, and they rest upon the 
same centre of support." 

I cannot pursue the subject further, but the existing 
circumstances of our missionary institutions call loudly for 
the consideration of these judicious remarks. I return to 
the narrative. 

Not satisfied with his exertions in establishing and aid- 



76 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

ing a missionary society, and thus contributing to diffuse 
the gospel abroad, John felt it his duty to do all the good 
in his power to those among whom he lived. This led him 
at the commencement of this session to engage in teaching 
a Sabbath-school, in a village a few miles distance from 
St. Andrew's. To this place he was in the habit of going 
regularly every Lord's day evening, and occasionally, 
also, on other days, when he could find time, for the pur- 
pose of conversing with the parents ; thus endeavour- 
ing to interest them in the spiritual welfare of their chil- 
dren, and in their regular attendance at the school. 

These engagements have often been productive of the 
most beneficial effects on young men intended for the 
ministry, as w T ell as on the minds of the rising generation. 
They stimulate to the examination of the Scriptures, 
accustom the teacher to an easy and familiar method of 
speaking and address ; and increase his acquaintance with 
the peculiarities of human character. The difficulties he 
experiences in conducting such seminaries, and accom- 
plishing his wishes, will be found to arise from many of 
the same causes which operate on the " children of a 
larger growth," w 7 hom he may afterwards be called to 
instruct. And the mode of meeting these difficulties by a 
combination of faithfulness and affection, of perseverance 
and prayer, will habituate him to the exercise of principles 
and dispositions of the last importance, in discharging the 
duties of the Christian ministry. 

To this kind of service my young friend was much 
attached, as well from choice as from principle and a 
sense of duty. He was sensible of the benefit which 
he derived from it himself; and, therefore, wherever he 
was, though but for a short time, he endeavoured to collect 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 77 

a few young persons around him. From the great amia- 
bility of his disposition, he never failed to bring them to- 
gether, and to attach them to him; and, from his happy 
method of engaging, their attention, he was always re- 
warded, in seeing their love to the exercise, as well as 
their personal attachment to himself. On his return home, 
at the end of the session, he succeeded in establishing a 
meeting of a few young men, of his own age, in his father's 
house, once a week, for conversing about the Scriptures, 
and for prayer ; the benefit of which some of them, I hope 
may yet enjoy. While there, also, during the summer 
vacation, he taught a Sabbath-school in the neighbourhood 
of Perth ; thus evincing his sincerity and diligence in the 
improvement of every opportunity of usefulness which he 
could command. 

Having noticed his feelings and views in regard to per- 
sonal religion, and to the work of the gospel abroad, and his 
exertions to promote its interests at home, it will now be 
proper to advert to his progress in his literary pursuits, 
especially in that class in which he made so distinguished 
a figure. A certain description of persons, who are not 
altogether opposed to religion, but who feel exceedingly 
cool in regard to its claims, both upon themselves and 
others, are much disposed to allege, that if the attention 
of a young person is much occupied with religious sub- 
jects, other things which he ought to pursue, must be 
neglected. It is admitted that there is some difficulty in 
perfectly adjusting the relative and proportionate claims 
of religious and other pursuits, especially during the more 
active period of human life. Wisdom is necessary to 
direct in this, and in many other matters, which cannot 
be determined by the language of the Scriptures. To which 



78 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

preference is due, no doubt can be entertained. "Seek 
ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness," is 
a plain injunction applicable to all circumstances, and at 
all periods of our existence. True wisdom consists in 
obeying that injunction, which will never fail to secure 
the fulfilment of the promise, " and all these things shall 
be added unto you." Should there be in any instance an 
excess in devoting what may be considered too large a 
portion of attention to religion, surely it is a very pardon- 
able offence. If it be an error, it is an error on the safe 
side. Allowances are made for individuals following the 
bent of a powerful genius, when that genius is directed 
towards some earthly object ; but, unhappily, if the bent 
of the mind is toward religion, the feeling which is mani- 
fested is very different. What is an amiable and praise- 
worthy enthusiasm in the one case, is denounced as miser- 
able and misguided fanaticism in the other. The conduct 
which raises an artist or a poet to the summit of earthly 
glory, places a Whitefield and a Martyn in the pillory of 
the world's scorn. 

It is no common thing to find a mind so nicely poised 
and balanced, as to be capable of giving every subject of 
examination its proper degree of attention, and every 
object of pursuit its just measure of importance. It will 
too generally happen that when one thing, whether of a 
secular or spiritual nature, obtains firm possession of the 
mind, other things will, to a certain extent, be dislodged. 
There is usually, to employ the expressive phraseology of 
Dr. Chalmers, " a shooting forth of the mind in one direc- 
tion ;" and when this happens, other things must be 
obscured and left behind. If, according to Spurzheim, 
the faculty of common sense consists in the harmonious 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 79 

arrangement and operation of all the other senses, it is 
very evident that the faculty is by no means so common 
as the phrase imports. 

As it regards religion, however, I am inclined to think, 
this is one of the libels which its enemies are ever disposed 
to propagate against it. They maintain in the face of all 
evidence, that the men who are clamorous on the subject 
of the spiritual wants of others, are usually defective in 
their generosity to supply their temporal necessities. In 
vain we appeal to our Howards and Wilberforces, and 
thousands besides, in refutation of the calumny. It will 
be reiterated till the world is regenerated. 

I apprehend that it will often be found that our reli- 
gious men are among the most ardent and devoted students. 
Few men have distinguished themselves more when at 
College, than Martyn, and Kirke White ; and I am happy 
that I can add the name of Urquhart to the list of per- 
sons, who, under the noblest considerations, devoted their 
fine talents and unconquerable ardour to the pursuits of 
literature and science, that they might lay their crowns as 
scholars at the foot of the cross. 

I hesitated for some time whether I should give a few 
of his essays in the Moral Philosophy class ; fearing they 
might not do full justice to his merits, and that to some 
readers they might not be sufficiently interesting. But, 
knowing the opinion of these essays, entertained by such 
a man as Dr. Chalmers, and observing the beautiful 
simplicity of language and felicity of illustration which 
they discover ; by which the most abstruse subjects are 
rendered not only intelligible, but attractive, I have re- 
solved to present them. The reader will thus see that he 



80 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

who was so much at home in religion, was not a stranger 
in the walks of philosophy.* 

"While engaged in these interesting exercises of his 
academical course, and in the prosecution of his plans of 
usefulness, he was called to sustain a painful trial, in the 
death of his youngest brother. Nothing of this kind had 
before occurred in the family, within his knowledge. He 
was suddenly summoned to Perth ; and after spending a 
few days by the dying bed of his brother, and endeavour- 
ing to interest his mind in religion, he returned to St. 
Andrew's, as the nature of the complaint left it very un- 
certain how long his brother might continue. On being 
informed of his death he wrote to his father and mother, 
as follows : — 

" St. Andrew's, January 17, 1825. 
"My Dear Parents — It is a remark which I have 
somewhere heard, that God tries to bring us to himself by 
mercies ; but if this has not the effect, he makes use of 
trials. Like the affectionate father of rebellious and dis- 
obedient children, he tries to win us by love ; and it is 
only our obstinate perseverance in our own ways which 
forces him to use the rod. It is true, that our very afflic- 
tions are signs of God's love towards us ; for, ' whom he 
loveth he chasteneth.' But it is equally true, that they 
are signs of his displeasure. We, as a family, have long 
been favoured with every blessing ; and it becomes us to 
ask, if we have been as grateful and as obedient as became 
the children of so many mercies. A serious review of the 
past, will make us wonder that our Father has been so 
long-suffering ; that he has withheld his chastening hand 
* See Appendix C. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN TJRQUHART. 81 

so long. It becomes us, then, to repent of our unthankful 
and repining disposition, and to humble ourselves under 
the mighty hand of God. 

"It is a joyful thing, that, in the time of affliction, God 
does not hide his face from us, nor remove us far from 
him. But it is the very end of all our trials to bring us 
to himself by drying up our channels of happiness, to lead 
us to the spring from whence those channels were sup- 
plied ; by breaking the cisterns which we have hewed out 
for ourselves, to lead us to the fountain of living waters. 

" I think I may say, ' it has been good for me to be 
afflicted ;' it has driven me to the Bible, and to a throne 
of grace, as the only consolations ; and never did the 
truths of the gospel appear more precious. My Christian 
friends here have been very attentive to me, and seem to 
have sympathized with me in earnest. 

" This is certainly a warning to each of us, to be also 
ready — a solemn exhortation to be active in the cause of 
Christ ; and whatever our hand finds to do, to do it with 
all our might; knowing that there is no knowledge nor 
device in the grave whither we are fast hastening. 

"I am anxious to know what impression this solemn 
event has made on the minds of my yet remaining brother 
and sister. Death can sometimes affect the soul which has 
been unmoved by the most solemn admonitions, and the 
most impressive eloquence. I am very sorry that it is out 
of my power at present to write to them. 

" The ways of God are very mysterious. Had I been 
here during the Christmas holidays, I could, in all proba- 
bility, have got a situation, which w T ould have enabled me 
to support myself, and even, in a year or two, to have 
given you some assistance. It w T as a situation as tutor in, 



82 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

a very pious family in England. I had been recommended 
as a fit person for the place, but as it had to be occupied 
immediately, it was given to another, who is there by this 
time. From all the accounts I got of it, it seemed a place 
where I could have been very happy; and I could not 
help feeling disappointed. But it is a happiness to think 
that it is a gracious Father that overrules all things ; and 
that he does all things well. 

"P. S. Give me a more full account of the latter part 
of my poor brother's illness. " 

Shortly after this, he wrote me a long letter, partly on 
the same subject, and partly giving me an account of vari- 
ous affairs then transacting in St. Andrew's, which he 
knew would interest me. 

"St. Andrew's, February 18, 1825. 
"My Dear Sir — I am really quite ashamed that I 
have not sent you a letter long before now. I intended 

writing by Dr. R , when I sent up the catalogue of 

your library ; but it occurred to me that at such an early 
period of your new settlement, when you must have been 
so much occupied with the bustle and the confusion attend- 
ing such an event, it would have been altogether out of 
place for me to trouble you with a letter. It is now a 
month or two since my father informed me in one of his 
letters, that he had heard from you, and that you had 
kindly expressed a wish that I would write to you from 
St. Andrew's. I really have no proper excuse for delay- 
ing so long ; suffice it to say, that this is not the first time 
I have sat down to address you ; and that I might fill my 
sheet to no purpose, in telling how often I have taken up 



MEMOIR OF JOHN UEQUHART. 83 

the pen, and what circumstances have hitherto prevented 
me from finishing my letter. You have, in all probability, 
heard before now, that death has at last entered our 
family, and has snatched away the youngest and healthiest 
of us all. Poor Henry had thought himself dying from 
the first day he took to his bed, and had expressed a great 
desire that I should be sent for. My father accordingly 
sent for me ; and on my arrival at home, I found my 
brother in a state of very great agony, and quite unable 
to converse with me. I was anxious to speak to him 
about that world whither he was evidently fast hastening; 
but so excruciating was his pain, that he could not listen. 
I can remember, when I asked him, after he had been 
violently crying out from the pain in his head, what was 
the cause of all his suffering, how expressively he an- 
swered, that it was sin. And at another time, on asking 
him if he was afraid to die ; he told me, No. But these 
short answers were all I could obtain from him ; the pain- 
ful nature of his distress did not permit longer conversa- 
tion. After staying at home about a week, I found that 
I was waiting for a change which might yet be far dis- 
tant ; and that I was losing my own time without being 
able to render any service to my brother. I therefore 
resolved to return ; but I think I shall never forget the 
bitterness of that parting. I felt far more then, than 
when I heard afterwards, that my brother was gone. 
Henry begged of me not to go away, and my mother with 
tears entreated me to remain ; but I thought it my duty 
to leave them ; and in the issue, it has proved much better 
that I did so ; for my brother lingered for weeks after. I 
cannot say whether I was more depressed or relieved by 
the letter which brought the tidings of his death. I re- 



84 MEMOIR OF JOHN UKQUHART. 

joice to think that his body was freed from very exquisite 
suffering ; but with regard to his soul all was uncertain. 
I would indulge the hope, that his suffering may have been 
rendered the means of bringing him to trust in that 
Saviour about whom he had so often heard. But it rests 
with God. To us there has been given no certain assur- 
ance of his happiness. I hope I have myself been enabled 
to see in this dispensation, the hand of an all-wise Father ; 
and that it has not been without a beneficial influence on 
my own soul. Separated from my earthly relations, and 
deprived of the comfort which their sympathy might have 
inspired, I was forced to seek consolation from that Friend 
who never leaves his people. Never did I feel so much 
the need of the consolations of the gospel ; and never did 
its declarations appear more cheering and consolatory. I 
could feel not only submissive, but thankful. I could say 
with Conder, when in a similar situation : — 

1 Oh, to be brought to Jesus' feet, 
Though sorrows fix me there, 
Is still a privilege/ 

But I have to regret that the impression has been of such 
short continuance, and that my heart seems ready to go 
back again to the vanities of the world. I can easily per- 
ceive that if the gospel have not an abiding influence on 
the conduct, the mere sentimental tenderness, and dead- 
ness to the things of earth, which are produced by the 
death of a friend, may, and will soon be forgotten. I 
know you will forgive me for dwelling so long on this 
painful theme. You will remember that the wound is yet 
green : and you know from experience how the mind, in 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQTJHART. 85 

such circumstances, loves to brood over the cause of its 
sorrow. 

" I must proceed to give you some information about 
St. Andrew's. I might tell you of the prosperity of the 
College ; the increase in the number of the students, &c. ; 
but as these things cannot much interest you, I shall just 
shortly advert to some religious institutions which have 
been formed among us, and to the spiritual state in gene- 
ral of our town and University. Dr. Chalmers has 
effected a good deal by his own example and his own 
exertions ; but he has even been more useful in drawing 
to this place a number of pious young men of various 
denominations, who have been the instruments of bringing 
about a great change in the externals, at least, of our 
University. We cannot indeed say, that any great moral 
renovation has been effected ; but the machinery, at least, 
has been erected, which, with the blessing of God, may be 
the means of effecting it. We have now Sabbath-schools 
taught by members of the University ; and meetings for 
prayer among the students ; and, what is more astonishing 
still, a University Missionary Society, consisting of about 
sixty members, who meet once a month for the purpose of 
promoting the objects of the society. In connection with 
this last institution, we have formed a small library of 
missionary books, which have mostly been sent us in pre- 
sents ; and from the circulation of which, I anticipate great 
good. This is an institution in which I take particular 
interest, as I have long considered the object which it has 
in view one of the most important, perhaps, the most im- 
portant, which can engage the mind of a Christian. And 
for some time I have even seriously thought of devoting 
my own life to the cause of missions. I had long wished 
8 



86 MEMOIR OF JOHN IT RQ IT II ART. 

i 

to find a companion who could enter into my own views on 
this subject ; and such an one I think I have fallen in with 
this session. His name is Mr. Adam ; he had been 
boarded for some time with Mr. Malan, of Geneva, and he 
seems to have imbibed much of the spirit of that excellent 
man. We have sometimes talked over the subject of mis- 
sions together, and I hope we may be yet honoured to 
preach the gospel to the heathen. I am aware of the diffi- 
culties to be encountered ; and of the danger of rashly 
forming a resolution of such importance ; but even the 
desire I have expressed to you, is the fruit of much medi- 
tation and prayer. And I have communicated it to you, 
in order to have the benefit of your advice. I shall always 
look to you as one of the best friends I have on earth, and 
I trust my father in Christ Jesus. I wish you would send 
me word about the institution at Gosport. I have heard 
there is a great deficiency in the number of students. I 
entreat that you will pray for my direction in this mat- 
ter of so great importance with regard to my spiritual 
happiness. 

"I may mention, by the way, that we have a Mr. 

H here, a Baptist minister, from London ; of whom, 

perhaps, you may have heard. He has come to attend 
Dr. Chalmers, and has been very useful here. He and my 
friend, Mr. Adam, have established several preaching 
stations in the country round, where the people seem eager 
to hear the gospel. 

" I am sorry that I am so soon obliged to conclude ; for 
I have not told you the half of what I have to communi- 
cate. When I heard from home, my friends were well ; 
and the church had given Mr. Jack a unanimous call. 

"Perhaps I have been too free in still retaining the 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 87 

Hebrew books you were pleased to lend me. I am devot- 
ing all my spare time to the reading of the Psalms. 

" I shall be very much gratified by a letter. Perhaps 
you may be interested to hear that I preached, for the 
first time, on Saturday last, to a few of my fellow-students, 
who have formed themselves into a society for extempore 
preaching. We meet in the Divinity-Hall. Farewell." 

The reader, I am sure, will join me in admiring the 
beautiful combination of Christian principle and brotherly 
affection contained in these letters. There is no affecta- 
tion of feeling ; but the utterance of it in the simplest and 
most impressive language. He dwells on the slight indi- 
cations of religious feeling which his brother could give, 
with evident delight ; and fondly cherished hope as far as 
the circumstances admitted. The account of the progress 
of religion and of the juvenile association, is also very 
interesting. It shows how completely his heart was now 
engaged ; and, from this time, I considered him devoted 
to the work of God among the heathen, should Providence 
be pleased to spare his life. I accordingly wrote to him 
to encourage and cherish, rather than to stimulate him, 
which, I perceived, he did not require. The sermon te 
which he refers, as his first essay in this kind of composi- 
tion, remains among his papers ; and would do credit, in 
point of sentiment and expression, to a minister of some 
years standing. 

Having been the principal means of establishing the 
University Missionary Society, he appears to have taken 
a very active part in its management. And as an evi- 
dence how much it engaged his mind, and how fully he 
thought on all the bearings and aspects of the great work, 



88 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

I must introduce an essay which he read at one of its 
meetings, held on the 12th of February; a few days before 
the writing of the preceding letter.* 

He was too busy about this period to spend much time 
in correspondence ; but a few of his letters, though short, 
I must introduce. They will show the strength and deli- 
cacy of his natural feelings, and how tenderly he was 
alive to all the charities of human life. A sentence is 
sometimes more indicative of feeling and sentiment than 
a volume. 

11 St. Andrew's, February, 1825. 

"My Dear Mother — If ever in my life I felt quite 
oppressed and burdened with kindness, it was on the re- 
ceipt of your very kind communication after my brother's 
death ; and I am quite ashamed that I have not long before 
now found means to express my gratitude. My friends 
seem to have vied with each other, who should be kindest, 
and who should pay me most attention ; and had I not 
been quite overburdened with business, you should have 
had a letter long before now. At the time you sent, I 
had a very severe cold, which seemed to show some dis- 
position to settle in my breast ; but I am now tolerably 
well again. Nothing, however, could prevent my good 
landlady, on the recommendation of Mr. Smith, who called 
on me, from ordering flannels for me, which of course has 
greatly assisted in emptying my slender purse. I have 
just received my father's letter of the 4th, and am exceed- 
ingly happy to hear that the church have all come to one 
mind concerning Mr. Jack. The choosing of a minister 
is in general one of the most trying times to our churches ; 

* See Appendix D. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 89 

and I think we have much reason to bless God that roots 
of bitterness have not been permitted to spring rip and 
trouble us. Things are going on pretty well among 
us. The people round about seem to be hungering and 
thirsting after righteousness. Mr. Adam preached in the 
country on Friday, at a new station, where the people 
themselves had requested that some one should come. 
There is a great want of labourers — they have pressed 
Mr. R into the service, but still there is employ- 
ment which is more than enough for them." 

" St. Andrew's, February 22, 1825. 
"My Dear Brother — I have sometimes blamed, or 
rather pitied you, (for it is not a legitimate subject of 
blame,) for a want of feeling ; and I am quite sorry I have 
ever done so ; for the deep pathos that runs through some 
of your letters, which are, notwithstanding, expressed in 
all the unaffected and unstudied simplicity of nature, con- 
vinces me that I have been very far mistaken. I recol- 
lect of being very much struck by your truly pathetical, 
yet artless account of the death of T. Greig, which was 
contained in a letter you sent me about a year ago ; and I 
have been still more affected by your very touching allu- 
sion, in your last, to the death of our brother. I would 
indulge the hope that this event may have proved a bless- 
ing to us as a family. In all the communications I have 
received from home, there has, I think, been displayed a 
spirit of greater tenderness than usual. With your own 
short letter I have been particularly pleased. You could 
not have given me a more satisfactory proof that this dis- 
pensation has been in some degree blessed to you than the 
feeling of self-condemnation which your letter breathes." , 
8* 



90 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

" My Dear Sister — I have the expectation of seeing 
you so soon, that it may be thought almost unnecessary 
for me now to write to you : but I cannot think of letting 
the session pass without sending you a letter. I was 
gratified to hear from Mr. Muir that you had written a 
letter for me. I am quite sorry you did not send it, for 
I am sure that those very things which seemed blemishes 
to you would have enhanced its value to me. It is an 
easy and unstudied effusion of sentiment which constitutes 
the great charm of epistolary correspondence. I wish you 
would always write to me the simple dictates of your own 
heart without any external interference whatever, and 
with the fullest confidence, that, what you write will never 
meet any eye but my own. I hope to see you now in a 
few weeks, and to be able to devote a good part of my 
time in the summer months to your education. I hope 
you have been going on with your French. I should have 
written you a much longer letter had it not been that I 
expect so soon to see you personally.'' 

In these letters the feelings of nature are expressed in 
a very interesting manner. The letter to his brother con- 
tains some very delicate touches, and manifests much tact 
and discrimination, as well as great ingenuousness and 
deep concern for the salvation of his soul. May his 
prayers and expostulations not be in vain ! i 

The two following, though the last is without date, ap- 
pear to have been written during this session. 

" St. Andrew's, March 13, 1825. 
" My Dear Friend — This is Sabbath evening, and it is 
now pretty late, yet I cannot think of letting my father go 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 91 

without writing by him. I have had but little experience 
in the feelings of the afflicted, but yet I can remember 
how the receipt of a letter from a friend, or any such little 
incident, would sometimes mitigate, in a degree, the pains 
of disease, by chequering the dull and tedious hours of 
confinement. And, if in this way I can have any hope of 
ministering to your comfort, it were surely most ungrate- 
ful of me to let slip, through negligence, a single oppor- 
tunity of doing so. My father tells me that you are still 
very poorly ; but you know, from experience, far better 
than I can tell you, that every affliction works for the 
good of them that love God. You must have a satisfac- 
tion in feeling that every trial through which God has 
carried you, has been an additional proof of his love to 
you, and of your interest in a Saviour ! A satisfaction 
which that individual, whose religion (like mine) has been 
all in the sunshine of prosperity, cannot enjoy. I have 
not yet proceeded far on the voyage of life, and hitherto 
all has been smooth and prosperous ; but I sometimes look 
forward with dread foreboding to the many tempests which 
I may have to encounter on life's rough sea, and to the 
many waves of trouble and distress which roll between me 
and that peaceful shore, where ' billows never beat, nor 
tempests roar.' And at such times I could envy the case 
of that bark, which, like yours, has long been tossed by 
many a tempest, but which has weathered them all, and is 
just about to drop anchor in the peaceful haven. But I 
feel that this is a sinful feeling, and proceeds from weak- 
ness of faith. It is doubting his word, who has said, 
i when thou walkest through the fire it shall not burn 
thee ; and through the waters, they shall not overflow 
thee/ I am sorry that I am obliged here to conclude 



92 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

abruptly, as my time is gone. May the Lord support you 
in all your trials !" 

" My very Dear Friend — I cannot think of leaving you, 
as we parted last night, without some expression of what 
I feel at your often repeated kindness which has entailed 
upon me a debt of gratitude which I can never discharge. 
All that I am, and all that I have, are devoted, I trust, to 
the service of God ; and the only way that I can ever 
repay the kindness of Christian friends is by redoubling 
my ardour in the great cause for which we all live, and 
for which we all die. If this shall be the effect of your 
generosity, it will produce to you a double reward, and to 
me a double benefit. You will not only enjoy the thought 
that you have gained the lasting gratitude and good wishes 
of a fellow-pilgrim in this world, but when this world, and 
all the things that are therein, shall be burnt up, you will 
be rewarded a thousand-fold as having contributed, in 
some degree, through that unworthy individual, to pro- 
mote the interests of a cause, the noblest that ever occu- 
pied the thoughts of men or of angels ; I had almost said, 
of God himself. 

" And if your kindness prove to me, as I trust it will, 
a stimulus to greater exertion in the cause to which I am 
devoted, that will be an infinitely greater benefit than all 
the advantages it may directly confer. Thus may the 
Lord make your kindness a double blessing both to the 
giver and to the receiver. And to his name be all the 
thanks and all the glory." 

The two preceding letters would do credit to any pen as 
specimens of natural and unaffected epistolary correspond- 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHAKT. 93 

ence ; while the sentiments they contain, and the spirit 
which they breathe, would not be unworthy of the most 
mature Christian. The fears respecting the future, which 
he so beautifully expresses, were never realized. His 
tender bark was indeed ill fitted to encounter the storms 
and perils of this world ; and therefore infinite goodness 
brought it speedily to " the land of glory and repose." 

Dr. Chalmers' class seems to have occupied the princi- 
pal share in his attention during this winter ; and in moral 
philosophy and political economy, he appears to have 
made great proficiency. Besides his notes of the Profes- 
sor's lectures, and the papers which he wrote on the vari- 
ous subjects which were assigned, or voluntarily under- 
taken, he composed a synopsis, or analysis of Smith's 
Wealth of Nations, the favourite class-book of Dr. Chal- 
mers, and which has contributed more to produce correct 
views of society, and of the science which is now so popular, 
than any production of the age. My young friend read 
this work evidently with great care ; and though he must 
have generally admired it, and agreed in its statements 
and reasonings, he did not blindly adopt them. His essay 
on the Distinction between Productive and Unproductive 
Labour, will evince that he could think for himself, and 
discover even in the able work of that most profound 
thinker, positions that are not altogether tenable.* 

Every one must admire the acuteness and talent dis- 
played in this essay. More than common discernment 
was necessary to catch the author of the Wealth of Nations 
tripping ; but still greater talent was required to detect 
the fallacy and expose the mistaken reasonings by which 
the theory was supported. A discovery, when made, often 

* See Appendix E. 



94 MEMOIR OF JOHN UR QUI! ART. 

appears very simple and easy ; but the mind which makes 
that discovery, and the process which leads to it, belong 
not to the common order, and may be far removed from 
vulgar apprehension. 

Among his papers, which were written about this time, 
are several fragments, on subjects of great importance ; 
and while I feel deep regret that they are imperfect, I 
cannot throw aside even the fragments of such a mind. 
The first is on Written Language, in which his object ap- 
pears to have been to prove that it is of divine origin. 
This is a view of the subject not peculiar indeed to him, 
but still not usually adopted by philosophers and philo- 
logists ; though I confess it has long appeared to me the 
only tenable hypothesis. The employment of hierogly- 
phics, and the use of them to record facts of a certain 
kind, are easily accounted for ; but the discovery of alpha- 
betic writing is a very different matter. The extraordinary 
simplicity of alphabetic characters, and their still more ex- 
traordinary power, render it improbable that they should be 
the discovery of chance, or the invention of a barbarous peo- 
ple : while the impossibility of arriving at any great degree 
of civilization or scientific advancement without them, 
supposes that the discovery must have preceded. If 
reason and language are the gifts of God, it is not going 
too far to say, that both are imperfect and very limited in 
their operation without the use of a written language. In 
order to preserve and authenticate a divine revelation, a 
fixed medium of that revelation seems absolutely neces- 
sary ; and, perhaps, it would not be difficult to suggest 
reasons amounting to high probability, that when the law 
was given to Moses, the first knowledge of alphabetic 
writing, and the first specimen of it were then com- 



MEMOIR OF JOHN UEQUHART. 95 

municated. But this is not the place to pursue such an 
inquiry.* 

Among his other pursuits during this busy session, he 
wrote several discourses on passages of Scripture. Some 
of them were read to Mr. Lothian, others of them to a small 
number of his fellow-students : but none of them, I believe, 
was used in any other way. They are all illustrative of 
the soundness and clearness of his mind ; the accuracy and 
extent of his knowledge of the Scriptures ; the philosophical 
turn of his thinking ; and his prevailing disposition to con- 
nect all his pursuits with the missionary enterprise, in 
which even then, he ardently wished to engage. I am 
very much deceived if the discourse, which I give as a 
specimen, will not be considered an extraordinary effort 
of so young a mind.f 

I do not know whether the writer of this admirable 
discourse ever saw the i; Hints on Missions," by Mr. 
Douglas ; but there is a passage in that little work so 
applicable to the subject of this discourse, and so im- 
portant in itself, that I shall here take the liberty to 
introduce it : — 

" While belief is connected with truth, we shall never 
want converts : and while the belief of truth impels 
to the communication of truth, we shall never want 
preachers. 

" -I believed, and therefore have I spoken.' Here is a 
measure derived from heaven to judge of the sincerity of 
belief. The laws of the human mind are not circumscribed 
within degrees and parallels. He who has no desire to 
proclaim the gospel abroad, has none to proclaim it at 
home, and has no belief in it himself; whatever profes- 
* See Appendix F. f See Appendix Q. 



96 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

sions he may make, are hollow and hypocritical. Bodies 
of Christians who make no efforts to christianize others, 
are Christians but in name ; and the ages in which no 
attempts are made to send the glad tidings to heathen 
countries, are the dark ages of Christianity, however 
they may suppose themselves enlightened and guided by 
philosophy and moderation. 

" The ages of Christian purity have ever been the ages 
of Christian exertion. At the commencement of Chris- 
tianity, he who believed in the gospel, became also a 
preacher of the gospel. 'We believe, and therefore we 
speak.' The effort was correspondent to the belief, and 
the success to the effort. Christians grew and multiplied, 
and their very multiplication insured a fresh renewal of 
their increase. The primitive prolific blessing was upon 
them, and one became a thousand,"* 

If the subject of these memoirs borrowed the hint from 
the above passage, of which I have no evidence, it is very 
clear that he has duly improved upon it. His discourse 
exists but in the first rough draft, and appears therefore 
under every disadvantage. I have not altered one sen- 
tence, and scarcely corrected even a word ; yet with all these 
drawbacks, it affords evidence that it is the production of a 
master-mind. The argument is exceedingly ingenious, and 
is sustained with a degree of ability and felicity of illus- 
tration, which reflects the highest credit on the powers of 
the author. The simplicity of his own views of religion, and 
the deep earnestness with which he pleads for the full 
practical influence of Christianity are truly delightful. 
How happy would it be for the individuals themselves, 
for the church, and the world, did all who enter on 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 97 

the office of the ministry feel the force of the high and 
hallowed views which are here stated. 

The references to natural religion, as it is called, con- 
tained in this discourse, induced me to introduce an essay 
on that subject, which he wrote as a class exercise at the 
close of this session. The subject is one on which a great 
deal of ignorance has been discovered, and a vast portion 
of error propagated. The religion of nature will, I fear, 
go a very little way to inform the understanding, still less 
to regulate the affections, and no way at all to satisfy 
God, or pacify the conscience of a sinner. Whether un- 
assisted reason is capable of accomplishing all that my 
young friend, with many others, contends for, is not per- 
fectly clear ; but no one can doubt the admirable and 
beautiful manner in which he conducts his own argu- 
ment, and the justice which he does to the claims of the 
revelation of God.* 

From his correspondence I select the following letter to 
a young friend, who was then about to sustain a severe 
loss in his mother, a most amiable and eminently devoted 
Christian. It is marked with much tenderness and faith- 
fulness. 

" St. Andrew's, March 12, 1825. 

" On looking over your last letter, the most important, 
indeed the only intelligence it conveys, is an answer 
(which I regret is such a painful one) to my inquiries 
about your mother's health. From what my father tells 
me, I fear the worst, and I cannot help dreading you may 
have lost her ere now. At all events, from the nature 
and virulence of her disease, your hopes cannot be very 

* See Appendix H. 
9 



98 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

sanguine. I am writing to one who has either just lost, 
or who is every day expecting to lose, the dearest of all 
earthly relatives ; and in either case, I should feel I was 
doing violence to all the finer feelings of our common 
nature, did I indulge in a strain of writing that was light 
or frivolous. There is something in the near view of death, 
either prospectively or retrospectively, which solemnizes 
the gayest heart, and disposes the most thoughtless to 
serious reflection. There is something in that tender sor- 
row which attends the death of one that is dear to us, 
which, for a time, subdues the pride of the haughtiest, 
and turns the eye of the most worldly, for a time, to hea- 
ven. If ever that spiritual blindness is removed, which 
hides from our view all that is beyond the grave, it is, 
when by the death of a near friend, we are led, as it were, 
to the very outskirts of this world, and can thus take a 
nearer view of that world which lies beyond it. You will 
excuse me, then, if, in such circumstances, I call to your 
remembrance, and press upon your attention, those sacred 
precepts which your mother has often taught you, and of 
which she herself has been a living exemplification. I 
know the dislike of the young mind to religion ; I have felt 
it, but it is a dislike which should be fought against. I 
know the alluring prospects of happiness which this world 
holds out ; but short, as has been my experience, I have 
found that they are deceitful. I know the difficulty that 
there is in standing out against the laugh and sneer of 
young and gay and light-hearted companions ; but, I can 
assure you, that you will be enabled to bear it, and even 
to rejoice under it. All that I wish you to do is, to con- 
sider the things of spirituality: if you but do this, your 
belief will follow ; and your joy, in believing, as a natural 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 99 

consequence. Perhaps your mother is yet lingering in 
this world ; if so, it is my prayer, that she may yet be re- 
stored to you. But perhaps, even now, you are mourning 
her loss ; if so, it is my prayer, that your affliction may 
send you to seek for consolation in the exercises of devo- 
tion. If this be the result of your trial, it will prove to 
you a real blessing, and you will find you have exchanged 
an earthly parent for an heavenly one." 

It was towards the close of the session, he wrote for the 
prize at the Moral Philosophy class, proposed by Dr. 
Chalmers. It appears, that, till near the end of the term, 
he had no intention of becoming a competitor, and that it 
was not till within four or five days of the period fixed for 
the giving in of the essays, that he set himself in good 
earnest to the task. To this, and several other sub- 
jects of importance he refers, in the following letter to his 
father : — 

"St. Andrew's, April 18, 1825. 

" My Dear Father — I am happy to be able to inform 
you, that I did not speak at the meeting at Cupar, nor 
ever had the slightest intention of doing so. I have been 
intreated by some of our friends, and have been reproved 
for want of zeal by others, because I did not come forward 
and preach in the country, but I have withstood both in- 
treaties and reproofs. Mr. Reid has been pressed into the 

service, and even Mr. , at the risk of being called to 

an account by the Presbytery, preached one Sabbath at 
Denino. I acknowledge that I have much higher ideas of 
preaching than are generally entertained among our 
brethren ; and I do sincerely think, that it has been one 
of the greatest evils (perhaps, for a time, a necessary one,) 



100 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

in our system, to bring forward people to preach who were 
not rightly qualified for this most important of all engage- 
ments. I think, from what you say in yours, you do not 
seem to have a right idea of the prize essay which I said 
I was writing. Most perfectly do I agree with you, that 
I stand no chance of gaining it ; but, at the same time, I 
should have thought it a breach of duty, and was afraid it 
might offend Dr. Chalmers, did I not give it in. They 
were entirely motives of this nature, which induced me, 
after I had burned an essay I had written, in order to 
compete for the prize, to write another when the time was 
almost run out. I am sure you will not think me capable 
of so much presumption, as to expect that a production, 
which cost me only five days' labour, at spare hours, should 
come into competition with those which have cost my com- 
petitors the continued application of four months. 

" I feel sincerely grateful for your letter. It is exactly 
what I need at present. I feel the praise which is of men, 
to be one of the severest trials I can meet with, and to be 
more especially the besetting temptation of an academic 
career." 

The modesty which formed a marked feature of his 
character, is strongly indicated in this letter. Though he 
had been frequently urged to preach, and to speak at some 
public meetings, he had decidedly refused to do so. He 
considered himself much too young to appear in public ; 
and in his ideas of preaching, I most fully concur. Those 
who did not know him, might suppose there was something 
of affectation in his intimations of having no expectation 
of the prize. But his friends at College, as well as myself, 
are persuaded that this was really the state of his mind, 
notwithstanding the effort which he made. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 101 

u He was distinguished, " says Mr. Duff, " for a remark* 
able diffidence in his own abilities, uncommon though they 
were. An instance of this occurred during his second 
session. The subject of a prize essay was proposed by 
the Professor of Logic. Mr. Urquhart began to write the 
essay, and brought it nearly to a close ; when, upon read- 
ing it, he was so dissatisfied with its merits, that he threw 
it into the fire. He was, however, encouraged to renew 
the attempt, and prosecuted the subject with vigour. He 
submitted the performance to a fellow-student, whose tried 
abilities rendered him capable of estimating the talent with 
which it was executed. He was much struck with the 
superior excellence of the essay, and strongly advised Mr. 
Urquhart to give it to the Professor. Notwithstanding 
this encouragement, having once more read the essay him- 
self, he was so much displeased with its execution, that he 
burnt it without any hesitation. " 

The highest prize was assigned him for the essay com- 
posed under the circumstances adverted to in the letter to 
his father. The opinion of Dr. Chalmers is evident, from 
his having awarded it, and from the sentence which he has 
written upon the last page of the essay itself. In this 
opinion, not only did the class in general concur, but even 
those individuals from whom he had carried off the boon.* 

Besides gaining the first prize at the Moral Philosophy 
class, on the subject prescribed by the Professor; he 
gained also the first prize for the best essay read in the 
class. He had also distinguished himself in the private 
Greek class ; and, indeed, in all the departments to which 
he directed his attention. " In estimating his success," 
says a fellow-student, " it must be remembered, that there 

J * * See Appendix I. 



102 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

never was at St. Andrew's a more brilliant assemblage of 
talent and of genius, attracted from all parts of the king- 
dom, by the fame of Dr. Chalmers, than there was during 
the session of 1824-25." In this opinion, it will be seen 
from Dr. Chalmers's letter, how fully he concurs. 

Perhaps I cannot do better than introduce, at the con- 
clusion of the course of Moral Philosophy, the account of 
him, with which I have been favoured by another of his 
fellow-students, and a competitor along with him for the 
prize. It contains some traits of character worthy of 
being preserved, and besides showing the estimate which 
was formed of him by others, is highly creditable to the 
talents, and still more the generous feelings of a fellow- 
candidate. It is not necessary that I should subscribe to 
every sentiment which it expresses ; but the description is, 
on the whole, correct and faithful : — 

" The seeds of talent, wherever they were sown, could 
not fail to spring up under the fostering eloquence of Dr. 
Chalmers. His enthusiasm, intense, and almost approach- 
ing to juvenile extravagance, communicated its ardour to 
every mind that could appreciate his bold and original 
speculations in moral and political philosophy, or could be 
animated by the eloquence with which they were illus- 
trated and enforced. Mr. Urquhart caught, in common 
with his fellow-students, the contagion of the example, 
which emanated from the chair. The activity of his mind 
was awakened, and the veneration which he entertained 
for the character, and admiration of the genius of his pro- 
fessor,, were the strongest motives to exert his own. I 
remember well the impression which his first essay made 
upon his class-fellows, and the flattering, though merited 
approbation it received from his professor. He began in 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 103 

a low, timid, faltering voice, shrinking from the silent and 
fixed attention of a public display, till by degrees his voice 
assumed a firmer tone, and when he closed it was not 
without animation and feeling. As his unpretending man- 
ners, and his previous public examinations, had given but 
little promise of his talents, the triumph was the more 
complete, as it was unexpected. Not to feel vain or proud 
of the distinction which literary eminence confers, is a 
modesty of nature but rarely found, even among those who 
have been longest accustomed to the homage of the public. 
To a young man, though the sphere in which his merits 
are displayed is narrower, yet the novelty of the feeling, 
combined with the gentler sensibility of his mind, renders 
the impression irresistible. It is, perhaps, the proudest 
moment of his life, when he is first commended for his 
literary acquirements, his taste, or his promise of future 
talent. That Mr. Urquhart was insensible to this praise, 
w r ould be saying too much. Such an indifference would 
have proved rather a want of feeling, than an absence of 
vanity. But whatever secret pleasure he may have felt, 
it was betrayed by no assumed airs of consequence or 
pride. Those who were attracted by his talents were not 
repelled by his vanity. He levied no contribution of 
admiration from his friends, as a tax to his merit ; and as 
no one could be less disposed to gratify others at the ex- 
pense of truth, so none was ever less solicitous of flattery. 
In his intercourse with his fellow-students, there was a 
total absence of all ostentation or pretension. No one 
was forced in his presence upon the disagreeable convic- 
tion of his own inferiority, so that without any of the arts 
of pleasing, or those popular qualities that attract general 
favour, he had made many friends, but no enemies. Few 



104 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

fancied they saw in him a rival to their own ambitious 
hopes ; and when he crossed the path, and gained the hill 
in advance, it was with so noiseless a step, and with so 
little show of a triumph, that he either escaped the vigil- 
ance of his competitors, or they pardoned his success for 
the manner in which it was obtained. What they might 
imagine themselves entitled to, for their superior talents, 
they willingly resigned to his virtue. Indeed, a little 
observation of the world shows, and the remark is appli- 
cable to every period of life, that men are more easy under 
a defeat than a triumph, and that the prosperous might 
enjoy their success without envy, if they had the prudence 
to conceal it. Not that by this reflection we mean to re- 
solve Mr. Urquhart's modesty into a refinement of selfish- 
ness. His conduct was equally remote from that haughti- 
ness, which is one of the forms of pride ; and from that 
affectation of humility, which is often the same passion 
under a new disguise. Nature in him had not learned to 
conceal her feelings, and still less to assume those which 
did not belong to her. Reserved without pride, and grave 
beyond his years, without any mixture of severity, he 
avoided the promiscuous society of his class-mates, not 
from any feeling of superiority, but partly from the timidity 
of his disposition, and from a want of sympathy in their 
ordinary sports and conversation. 

"'Concourse and noise, and toil, he ever fled/ 

" This disposition was as beautifully illustrated as the 
action was characteristic of his modesty, in his conduct on 
that day in which the prizes were distributed, at the close 
of the session, and of which he was to bear away some of 
the most distinguished and honourable. While the more 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 105 

ambitious and showy youths, had selected a distant station 
in the hall, that they might advance to the spot where the 
prizes were distributed, through a line of admiring specta- 
tors, Mr. Urquhart had shrunk unobserved into the corner 
of a window, near to the seat of the Professors, and no 
sooner was his name announced, than he had again drawn 
back and disappeared. There was scarce time to put the 
usual inquiry of who he was, when a new candidate for 
attention was summoned. The same simple, unostenta- 
tious manner, and aversion to display, which appear in 
this action, was the result of his general habits and feel- 
ings, and not of singular or accidental occurrence. It was 
in consistence with the other parts of his conduct. No 
one knew when Mr. Urquhart entered or retired from his 
class. He had no circle of literary dependants who 
crowded around him, to receive his philosophical dicta, or 
his canons of criticism. Yet, to those who observed him, 
there was something in his appearance in the class, singu- 
lar and interesting. He had an awkward habit of biting 
his nails, a practice in him not disagreeable, it was so 
much of a piece with the simplicity of his look. His head 
generally inclined to one side, and as he sat it was sup- 
ported by his arm. This was his usual position while 
listening to the lecture. As Dr. Chalmers's animation in- 
creased, Mr. Urquhart gradually elevated his head, and 
when he rose into eloquence, you would have seen his arm 
drop by his side, and his eye steadfastly fixed, looking the 
orator broad in the face. I know not whether Dr. Chal- 
mers marked these changes in the attitude of his pupil; 
but if he had, they would have afforded no inaccurate test 
of the degree to which his eloquence had risen. These 
incidents are of little value in themselves, but they will 



106 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

convey more truth and effect than any description of the 
disposition and manners of Mr. Urquhart. 

" Of his intellectual character, the most distinguished 
feature, I would say, was a sound understanding ; more 
clear and judicious, however, than either subtle or com- 
prehensive. Endowed with a mind thoughtful and con- 
siderate, he adopted none of the rash speculations and 
dazzling paradoxes which so often delude the inquirer of 
his age. Temperate and cautious in the exercise of his 
own judgment, he was the less disposed to receive the 
unripe and hasty inventions of others. In a conversa- 
tional society of his fellow-students, for the discussion of 
the opinions on moral and political philosophy, that were 
delivered from the chair, Mr. Urquhart took an intelligent 
and sometimes active part. The subjects were intricate, 
and did not admit of an easy flow of conversation. But, 
such as they were, Mr. Urquhart, when he hazarded his 
sentiments, generally spoke with clearness and precision. 
Profound remarks, exhibiting mature knowledge and pre- 
vious speculative habits, were neither required on such an 
occasion, nor expected. Plain and natural in his turns of 
thought, and not venturing beyond what he understood, 
he escaped those unintelligible extravagances into which 
more fearless thinkers on intricate subjects not unfre- 
quently fall. If he was unsuccessful in communicating 
new instruction by his remarks, he pleased from the sim- 
plicity with which he expressed ideas that were familiar; 
and every one eagerly invited and listened with pleasure 
to Mr. Urquhart as he spoke. There was an air of can- 
dour and truth in whatever he said, and the modesty with 
which he urged his opinions, was only surpassed by the 
readiness and good nature with which he retracted them 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 107 

•when convinced of his error. His name will not soon be 
forgotten by the members of that society of which, if he 
was not the brightest ornament by his talent, none was 
more beloved. 

" In his class essays, which, I believe, were among his 
first attempts at regular composition, there was a correct- 
ness of taste, felicity of illustration, and perspicuity in the 
arrangement of his thoughts, such as is rarely to be found 
in the early efforts of the juvenile pen. There is often an 
irregular exuberance in the productions of youthful talent, 
which it requires years of study to prune into form. The 
crop of Mr. Urquhart's imagination, if less luxuriant than 
many, was more free from tares, and more beautiful in its 
growth. He never blundered into a conceit or extrava- 
gance in search of ornament. His mind rested rather 
upon the broad analogies of things, and converted them 
into illustrations of his subjects, than upon those nice and 
secret resemblances which wit discloses in unexpected allu- 
sions and metaphors. It was imagination rather than 
fancy, which he possessed. Though he enjoyed the 
humour and lighter attempts at wit, of his companions, 
yet these were fields into which he seldom strayed. His 
excellencies consisted not in brilliant ornaments of style, 
or in the higher flights of imagination ; but in illustrations 
happily conceived, and closely incorporated with his sub- 
ject. The same simplicity, which was the charm of his 
manners, and the prevailing feature in his character, was 
the grace of his compositions. So chaste, and yet so 
young, was a union of circumstances so rare, that it opened 
prospects the most sanguine, of future excellence, when 
his mind should be enriched by knowledge, and disciplined 
by cultivation/ ' 



108 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUDART. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Introductory observations — John's return home at the end of his 
third session — Letter respecting his going to some of the Dissent- 
ing Academies — Letter illustrative of his state of mind — Letters 
— His employments during the vacation — Letter to Mr. Craik — 
His visit to London — Mr. Adam's account of him at this time — 
Letters to his father — Engagements during the winter — Letters 
to a friend — Letter to his brother — Letter to his mother — Letter 
to a friend — Letter to Mr. Orme — Opposition of his friends to his 
Missionary devotedness — Mr. Duff's account of him — Testi- 
monies to his literary attainments — Mr. Alexander's account of 
him — Dr. Chalmers' certificate. 

There are few things which put the character and 
principles of a young man more to the test than a classi- 
cal and University education. He who passes through 
this ordeal unhurt, has reason to bless the gracious and 
powerful influences of the divine Spirit. I do not refer at 
present to the levity of youth, and to the snares of those 
associations which belong to the state of society in Col- 
leges and classical schools. The danger of infection from 
the moral atmosphere is, indeed, great. But there are 
dangers of a different kind, arising out of the studies which 
chiefly engross the attention, and their powerful, but unper- 
ceived influence upon the mind. 

The investigations of philology and grammar, though 
important in themselves, and absolutely necessary as the 
basis of all correct knowledge, are dry, and often tire- 
some. The memory is loaded with words and forms of 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 109 

expression, which tend no doubt, to exercise and strengthen 
it ; but do not tend much to the moral benefit of the mind. 
When from these the scholar passes on to the more ele- 
gant studies of the Greek and Roman classics, or even to 
the polite literature of our own country, how little does he 
find at all calculated to promote his spiritual welfare ! 
This is not saying enough : how much does he meet with, 
the tendency of which is positively injurious ! The fasci- 
nations thrown around vice, the halo of glory with which 
sin itself is frequently invested, cannot be viewed often, 
and with great intensity, without damage. The individual 
who gives his days and nights to the poets and orators of 
Greece and Rome, must be more than man if he escapes 
without hurt to his spiritual feelings and principles. 

The influence of the exact sciences, and of experimental 
philosophy, though of a different nature, is still hazardous 
to a mind which has not arrived at maturity. The abso- 
lute certainty of mathematical demonstration, and the sure 
results of algebraic formula, produce a habit which has 
proved in many instances very unfavourable to the due 
appreciation of moral evidence. And the processes of 
chemistry, and the experiments of physical science, have 
not been always productive of an increased veneration for 
the great Spirit who presides over, and pervades all the 
operations of the universe. 

I wish to speak of results, rather than to assign reasons 
for those results. Whether the evils and dangers referred 
to are to be ascribed to the weakness and depravity of 
our nature, or to the imperfections of the systems of edu- 
cation, which are generally adopted, or to both together, 
does not alter the state of the fact, that our youth cannot 
receive what is considered a finished education, without 
10 



110 MEMOIR OF JOnN URQUHART. 

sustaining a very formidable trial. How few compara- 
tively can pass through a College, or even an academy, 
to the work of the ministry, without experiencing a diminu- 
tion or loss of their spiritual vigour ! 

To frame a system of education, which would avoid the 
greater number, or most of the evils, would be a service 
of incalculable value to the world. But I doubt whether 
human wisdom, under existing circumstances, is competent 
to the task. It is no difficult matter to furnish expur- 
gated editions of the classics, and to produce family Gib- 
bons, and family Shakspeares ; and those attempts at 
purifying the foul stream of classical instruction are not 
to be despised. But while so large a portion of time and 
thought must be expended in these pursuits, and while a 
capacity for relishing the beauties, whether of the ancient 
or the modern classics, is rated so high, I fear that the 
chief source of the evil will still remain. 

The principle on which most systems of education are 
constructed, is the relation which certain attainments bear 
to certain temporal advantages. The problem on which 
they are all founded is, How may an individual, at the 
least expense, be best fitted to conduct a family, to teach 
a congregation, to manage a counting-house, or to guide 
the state ? I do not say these are not important questions ; 
they are important, and they are the only questions which 
the world can ever ask and determine. But surely there 
are other questions which Christians might be expected to 
consider. Do not the relations which the pursuits and 
attainments of time bear to eternity, demand their con- 
sideration ? Ought what can have little tendency to pro- 
mote men's interests beyond this world, what in many 
instances injures those interests, to be the first subject of 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHAKT. Ill 

consideration ? Is it quite impossible to frame a system 
of education, in which all the lines may be brought to 
unite, in forming the intellectual and moral powers of man, 
for a state of immortal enjoyment ? A system in which 
every branch shall be deemed important, chiefly as it 
bears on his eternal condition ! A system in which what 
is showy and superficial, shall be rejected, or thrown into 
the shade ; and what is substantial and useful placed in 
the fore-ground ? A system in which taste shaU be less an 
object than character, and intellect be made subservient 
to morals ? A system in short, which shall have the prin- 
ciples of Christianity for its basis, the advancement of 
Christianity for its object, and the rewards of Christianity 
for its end ? 

I do not conceive such a system to belong only to a region 
in Utopia. It is perfectly conceivable ; but before it can 
be realized, we must be furnished not only with new prin- 
ciples, but with new men to inculcate them, and with a 
different state of society to secure their operation. Many 
as are the evils which we still deplore, much progress has 
been made during the last thirty years; and before a 
similar period shall have passed away, it is not too much 
to expect that the strides of society towards a better state 
will be still more gigantic. 

As the present work may fall into the hands of some 
who are engaged in conducting seminaries, I hope I shall 
be forgiven this seeming digression. Considering how 
many of our youth are seriously injured in the training, 
how many bitter regrets are afterwards experienced, even 
by those who do not suffer permanent injury ; and how few 
escape altogether without damage, I can scarcely be re- 
quired to offer an apology for these remarks. Indeed, 



112 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHAKT. 

though the subject of these memoirs retained his integrity, 
and passed through his studies without blemish, I know 
from himself, and from his fellow-students, that " he re- 
tained," (I use his own language) "a deep horror of St. 
Andrew's." He meant, I am sure, no reflection on the 
place, none on the Professors, and none on his fellow- 
students. But he considered it marvellous that he got 
through his academical course without ruin to his soul. 
In this preservation he was led to admire the exceeding 
riches of divine grace ; but it must appear very extraordi- 
nary, that a Christian University should expose its dis- 
ciples to such hazards. The fact is, the profession is 
Christian, but the entire process of education is pagan, or 
anti-Christian. Religion, instead of being the first, the 
last, and the main object, is subordinate to every other 
object. The minds both of professors and students, are 
absorbed in science and literature, as the chief objects of 
pursuit ; and religion, when attended to, is examined 
rather as one of the sciences, than as the doctrine of God 
and the path of immortality. While this system is pur- 
sued, it is not wonderful that the atmosphere of Colleges 
should generally be unfavourable to the vitality of Chris- 
tianity. 

Our last chapter brought the subject of these memoirs 
to the conclusion of the third year of his University course, 
and the seventeenth of his age. To him it had been a 
year of great interest, and great exertion. In it he had 
acquired a large portion of celebrity among his associates, 
and what was more, he had laid the foundation of some 
of his most interesting plans of usefulness. We shall now 
endeavour to trace his spiritual and intellectual progress 
to the close of his short but useful life. 






MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.^ 113 

Returning home at the end of the session, after visiting 
Edinburgh, laden, not with wealth, but "with honours 
bravely won," he still appeared the same modest, unpre- 
tending youth. His mind was fully occupied with the im- 
portance of the Christian ministry, and especially with 
the necessities and claims of the heathen world. I had 
the opportunity of seeing a good deal of him during the 
month of June, which I spent at Perth, and had then 
many conversations with him about his future plans. I 
saw the direction of his mind, and was satisfied what would 
be the issue ; but, from his extreme youth, being then only 
seventeen, I urged upon him the necessity of taking more 
time to consider the subject, especially as his father and 
mother were both exceedingly averse to his going abroad. 
I advised him, as there were then some difficulties in the 
way of his returning to St. Andrew's, rather to apply to 
be received into some one of the Dissenting academies at 
home ; knowing, that, if his mind still continued to be set 
upon the heathen world, the opportunity of gratifying his 
wishes would not be lost. With this advice he complied, 
and accordingly addressed a letter to the Committee of the 
Hoxton Academy, requesting to be received into that 
institution. His reasons for adopting this line of pro- 
cedure are well stated in the following letter to his friend 
Mr. C : 

" Perth, June, 1825. 

" A few days ago I sat down to write you, and wrote 
about eight pages, which, I thought, with the addition of 
a few sentences, at present, would make out a pretty re- 
spectable epistle. A few days, however, often make a 
great change in our feelings and our prospects; and I 
10 * 



114 * MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

perceive, on looking over the pages I have written, that 
they are quite unfit for sending at present. The last time 
I sat down, I wrote, with the full expectation of soon en- 
joying again the company of my dear friends at St. An- 
drew's ; and I write now under the impression that my lot 
may soon be cast in a distant part of the island. Mr. 
Adam perhaps, told you that Mr. Orme is here at preseut 
on a visit to us. He is a man with whom I have been on 
the most intimate terms from my very infancy, and one 
who has ever taken a deep interest, both in my spiritual 
and temporal welfare. Since ever I have felt anything 
of the power of religion, I have been accustomed to look 
to him as my father in Christ, and have ever felt the most 
perfect confidence in making known to him all my designs 
and feelings. Last winter I wrote to him expressing my 
views respecting missions, and my thoughts of devoting 
myself to this department of the Christian ministry. Since 
Mr. Orme's arrival in Scotland I have had much conver- 
sation with him on this subject, and have received a good 
deal of information respecting matters in the metropolis. 
There are some opportunities of instruction in oriental 
languages to be enjoyed at present in London, which, if 
neglected now, may be lost for ever. Dr. Morrison re- 
mains for a year only, to give directions about the study 
of Chinese ; and Mr. Townley remains, it is not certain 
how long, to teach some of the more important of the 
Indian languages. Another session, at one of the Scotch 
Universities, although it might be attended with several 
very considerable advantages, does not seem to counter- 
balance the opportunities I have hinted at. I can, in a 
letter, state the reasons which actuate me in this matter 
only in a very general way. It is not likely, should I go 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 115 

to London this summer, that I shall engage with the Mis- 
sionary Society immediately, but rather that I shall enter 
one of our Dissenting academies, where I shall be able to 
carry on my general studies at the same time that I have 
an opportunity of prosecuting the study of the eastern 
languages. On the whole, I feel in considerable perplexity 
how to act. I need not tell you that all my feelings are 
in favour of St. Andrew's, but, I honestly think, duty 
seems to point in another direction. Mr. Adam seems to 
agree in thinking it my duty to go to London. I have 
made this matter, for a considerable time, a subject of 
constant prayer ; and I propose setting apart a day for the 
solemn consideration of the whole matter, and for the pur- 
pose of asking direction from on high. May I entreat an 
interest in your prayers ? These are the circumstances in 
which we feel most the privilege of a free access to the 
Father of our spirits ; and these are the times when our 
belief in the revealed declarations of his character, and of 
his will, come to be tried ; and when, if that belief be found 
real, the revelation of God's character can give the greatest 
consolation and joy." 

With his application the Committee were much pleased, 
and w r ould have readily acceded to it ; but he was rather 
too young to be received into the house, which was besides, 
for that period, already full. He was therefore requested 
to wait for a year, at the expiration of which they would 
be glad to hear from him again. In consequence of this 
failure he requested to be admitted into the Glasgow 
Academy, under the tuition of my respected friends, the 
Rev. Greville Ewing, and the Rev. Dr. Wardlaw. After 
some hesitation on the part of the Committee of that In- 



116 MEMOIR OF JOnN URQUHART. 

stitution, on the ground of his having devoted himself to 
foreign service, they agreed to receive him. But circum- 
stances changed a little, and it appeared desirable that he 
should return to St. Andrew's to complete his academical 
course. 

How his mind was exercised in regard to these things 
will, in part, appear from some of his letters : — 

" Pertii, July 8, 1825. 

" My very Dear Friend — An opportunity is afforded 
me, by Mr. Machray, of answering your interesting letter, 
which I am glad to embrace. After you left us, I had a 
good deal of conversation with my friends, on the subject 
of my destination ; and, having set apart a day for the 
solemn consideration of the matter, and imploring divine 
direction, I came to the resolution of making application 
to Hoxton Academy. The issue of that application deter- 
mines me to remain another year in Scotland. I received 
an answer from Mr. Wilson, this week, informing me that 
the vacancies were all filled for the ensuing session ; but 
that, if I could profitably employ my time for a year, they 
would have room next year, and better accommodation, as 
they expect to enter on their new College. In connection 
with this matter, I have been led to consider more atten- 
tively those passages of Scripture, which refer to mission- 
ary exertions, and the result has been a deeper impression 
than ever, of the duty of engaging in this work. It is 
very true, that much has to be done at home ; that there 
are many here, as my friend Craik writes, who ' can only 
be considered in the light of more criminal heathens.' 
But this is a wilful ignorance : they are not c perishing for 
lack of knowledge.' And this argument, if carried to its 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 117 

full extent, would stifle missionary exertions to the very 
end of the world. What would have been the consequence, 
had the apostles resolved not to leave Jerusalem, till every 
one of their brethren, according to the flesh, was truly con- 
verted ? The Gentiles would not have received the glad 
tidings of salvation to the present hour. This was not 
the commandment the apostles received, however ; and, 
accordingly, they acted in a very different manner. They 
were to preach the gospel to all nations, beginning at 
Jerusalem. The nation of the Jews had a claim upon the 
first preachers of Christianity, which our countrymen have 
not upon us. They were not only their ' brethren accord- 
ing to the flesh,' but they were also God's chosen nation; 
and, as such, it was right that they should enjoy a pre- 
eminence over all others, in first receiving the proclama- 
tion of pardon. But, how did their brethren, the apostles, 
act even to this favoured nation? They made a full 
declaration of salvation, through Christ ; they made a free 
tender of the mercy of Jehovah ; but, by almost all, this 
mercy was slighted and rejected. By thus sinning against 
greater light, these individuals became more criminal even 
than the heathen. Did the apostles, therefore, think that 
they should not go forth to the heathen, till all these re- 
jecters of the truth were convinced of the error of their 
ways ? No ; that very rejection of the gospel, by their 
countrymen, was a signal for their departure. ' Seeing 
ye reject, &c, behold we turn to the Gentiles.' Had the 
gospel been proclaimed, in like manner, to all other na- 
tions, the apostles would have felt it their duty to have 
laboured assiduously among their brethren at home. But 
while there remained a single nation on the face of the 
earth, that had not received the knowledge of salvation, 



118 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

they felt that the parting commandment of their Master 
was not yet fully obeyed ; and, while they lived, they made 
it their business, more and more fully to execute that com- 
mand. But their missionary spirit died with them ; and, 
at the present hour, that commandment remains still un- 
obeyed. Is it difficult, in this case, to see the path of 
duty ? Besides, I cannot see, that by preaching at home, 
wc are hastening the coming glory of the church. God 
has promised, that all shall know him. He has not pro- 
mised that all shall serve him. On the contrary, he has 
said, that he will gather his people out of every nation, 
kindred, tongue, and people; which, evidently implies, 
that all shall not be his people. Far be it from me to 
depreciate the work of the ministry at home. It is a most 
important work. But still, while there are any sitting in 
darkness and the shadow of death, it must yield in import- 
ance to the missionary field. Besides, who can tell what 
an effect our neglect of God's commandment, to preach to 
all nations, may have, in causing him to withhold his Spirit 
from the exertions of Christians at home ? I must abruptly 
conclude. I was struck with the variety of incidents in your 
last. Let us contemplate much, my dear friend, the grand 
operations of God to our world ; and, let us thus learn to 
feel our own insignificance, and to merge every selfish 
consideration in the great work to which we are called." 

The progress of his religious sentiments and feelings, 
the following letters will show. 

The first is the letter alluded to, in that to his friend 
C , already inserted. It is too valuable to be omitted. 

" My very Dear Friend — The receipt of your interest- 
ing communication, and of a note from my friend, Mr. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN UEQUHART. 119 

Tait, accompanying a treatise on Confessions of Faith, 
have been among the most remarkable events in my his- 
tory, since I wrote last ; they have, at least, been almost 
the only varieties that have broken the regularity and 
sameness of a ceaseless routine of occupations, repeated 
with little change or interruptions, day after day. Not 
that I am displeased, or wearied of my retirement, for I 
esteem it as a very great privilege. But I preface my 
letter thus, merely to remind you, that though you, who 
are a public character, and are surrounded by all the 
bustle and variety of numerous avocations, have such a 
body of interesting matter to communicate, that you pant 
for utterance in the expression of it ; and one subject lead- 
ing to another, the stream of information so enlarges as 
you go along that the very sheets of paper seem to have 
foreseen its rising magnitude, and, aware of what was 
coming, to have extended their dimensions, in proportion 
as the fund of your information increased — I say, though 
this be the case with you, you must remember that it is 
very different with a solitary recluse, who has no com- 
panions but his books, (with most of whom you are better 
acquainted than himself,) and scarcely any engagements 
but his private studies. But a truce to this trifling. ■ I 
must proceed to answer your very interesting letter. We 
may, sometimes, draw illustrations of spiritual things from 
the most ordinary occurrences in life ; and they are not, 
on that account, the less striking. Your feelings expressed 
in the beginning of your letter, with respect to your cor- 
respondence, struck me as a good illustration of the nature 
and operation of faith. You knew something of the 
character of a fellow-creature, as much, you thought, as to 
entitle you to rely upon his veracity. You knew, how- 



120 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

ever, that he was fallible, and subject to change ; and yet, 
on this previous knowledge of his character, you confi- 
dently expected the fulfilment of a promise he had made 
to you. The time of its fulfilment came, however, and it 
seemed to you to have been broken. You were ' perplexed 
to account for his silence.' You tried to account for it by 
some expressions of regret he had used, that he had made 
the engagement ; but you did not think this a sufficient 
explanation of his failing to perform it. Now, what was 
it that made you think, even in the face of existing cir- 
cumstances, that your friend might have performed his 
promise ? It was your faith in his veracity, founded on 
the previous manifestations of his character which you had 
observed. Now, let us compare this, or rather, let us 
contrast it with our faith in the promises of God. Instead 
of an imperfect guessing at his character, from displays 
of it, which might generally correspond with what we 
think its leading characteristics, but which sometimes 
speak in direct opposition to them ; all the manifestations 
of the divine character we have ever beheld, have been in 
perfect harmony with each other, all going to establish 
the grand truths, that the c Lord is good ;' that 'the Judge 
of all the earth will do rightly :' and, above all, to demon- 
strate almost from the very nature of the divine existence, 
that i with him there is no variableness or shadow of turn- 
ing ;' that he is a God who cannot lie. Now is it not very 
strange, that with these, so sure grounds for implicit con- 
fidence, our faith in the divine goodness and faithfulness 
is so weak, as to permit our being perplexed by any of the 
dispensations of his providence, Jiowever dark and discour- 
aging ? You will remark, that this very perplexity is an 
indication of a certain degree of faith ; it is a struggling 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 121 

"between our confidence in the individual, and the circum- 
stances around us which seem to impeach his character. 
If this circumstantial proof be very strong, then the per- 
plexity indicates a very strong degree of confidence, to 
enable us to resist the conviction of this strong circum- 
stantial proof. But though, in these circumstances, per- 
plexity does indicate a very strong degree of faith ; yet it, 
at the same time, indicates an imperfection of faith. It 
may require very strong faith to stand in the combat 
against a very strong enemy : but perfect confidence would 
do more, it would overthrow the enemy, it would gain the 
victory. But perplexity implies, that this is not the case. 
It implies suspense. It implies that we have not come 
to a decision. It implies that the combat is yet doubt- 
ful ; that the victory has not yet been gained. Now 
is it not strange that our faith in a creature, weak as are 
the grounds of it, should carry us so far ? And that 
strong as are the foundations of our confidence in God, it 
does not carry us further ? — that the one should carry us 
so far as to land us in perplexity ; that the other should 
not carry us so far as to extricate us from perplexity ? Oh ! 
my friend, were we but deeply impressed with a sense of 
God's all-sufficiency, how much of our unhappiness would 
be taken away ! There would be no murmuring at the 
dispensations of Providence ; there would be no regret on 
reflecting on the past, but the regret that we had ever de- 
parted from God ; there would be no fear, on looking for- 
ward to the future, but the fear lest we might again break 
his commandments. Sin itself, from which we can never 
be wholly freed in this world, would still remain to trouble 
us ; but all those sources of misery which indirectly spring 
from it would be removed. And by a continual depend- 
11 



122 MEMOIR OF JOIIN URQUHART. 

ence on God, and confidence in him, the power even of 
sin itself would be continually weakening within us. The 
firm belief, that God was working in us both to will and 
to do of his good pleasure, would encourage us to work out 
with fear and trembling, that part of our salvation which 
yet remains, even our deliverance from the power of sin. 
Connected with this subject, that is a striking passage, 
'Walk thou before me, and be thou perfect. 9 

" But I am awakened from this long reverie, by per- 
ceiving that it is near our dinner hour. I sat down in 
despondency, thinking I should find nothing to say ; and 
resolved by way of making matter, to write a commentary 
on your epistle. I believe I shall make out pretty well in 
respect of quantity, if I paraphrase the whole of it at as 
great length as I have done these first few first sentences. 

" Perth, . 



"My Dear F : I take the liberty of writing 

these few lines, in answer to yours. We were glad to hear 
of your safe arrival, but were sorry to see the same depres- 
sion spread over your letter, which we had formerly 
lamented to behold in yourself. You do not say anything 
particular about the state of your health ; we trust, how- 
ever, that the change of place, and the bustle and excite- 
ment of travelling may have (partly at least) removed 
your nervousness. Circumstances, indeed, seem to be 
very depressing. But we, my dear , have consola- 
tions that should bear us up, and even make us glad under 
the severest calamities. That climax of misfortune, so 
beautifully described by the prophet, in the verses, 
4 Though the fig-tree shall not blossom,' &c, has not yet 
by any means come upon us ; and shall our hearts refuse 
to join in his triumphant expression of gladness, ' Yet 



MEMOIR OP JOHN URQUHART.' 123 

will I rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the God of my salva- 
tion V We have a still surer word of prophecy than that 
which he was instrumental in delivering. We have a 
surer light to guide our footsteps, and brighter promises 
to cheer us on our journey. And shall we repine, when 
all is comparatively smooth and even before us ? When 
we see our way before us and can perceive no difficulty to 
oppose our progress, we do not need to call into exercise 
our trust in the promises of God ; we do not walk by faith, 
but by sight. But it is where our way is dark, and there 
seems to be a lion in the path, that we feel our weakness. 
It is then that our faith in his promises is put to the test, 
who hath said, 4 Lo, I am with you always.' Is it not 
strange, that we can believe such promises of support and 
succour as are written on every page of the Bible, and 
ever feel discouraged or perplexed ? Such a belief, were 
it perfect, would transform even this world, with all its 
trials and afflictions, into heaven. Such a faith, however, 
is unattainable, while we are wedded to a body of corrup- 
tion, and exposed to the malicious suggestions of the 
adversary. But though this faith cannot be altogether 
attained, yet it may be approached to, of which we have 
some most triumphant proofs in the history of the people 
of God. But I must stop short." 

" Perth, July, . 



" My Dear C : It now seems, I think, determined, 

that I may yet entertain the hope of spending another 
winter with my dear friends in St. Andrew's ; and, as 
matters have turned out, I feel almost sorry that I did 
not confine within my own breast, those painful feelings, 
which the prospect of parting naturally excites. Had the 



124 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

matter been determined otherwise, however, it might have 
seemed unfriendly and self-willed to have asked no aid in 
the decision of it from the counsels and prayers of my 
Christian friends. As it is, the decision is not mine, but 
has chiefly been determined by circumstances over which 
I had no control ; but which have, I trust, been graciously 
ordered by him who is the God of providence, and who 
has promised that all things shall work together for our 
good, if we put our trust in him. In considering what 
might be the path of duty in this matter, I was a good 
deal perplexed. Had I not thought at all of engaging in 
the work of missions, I should not have doubted, that I 
ought to finish my course at St. Andrew's before entering 
a Theological Academy. And, on the other hand, had I 
come to the determination of devoting myself to that work, 
(especially with the views I have of China as a field of 
labour,) I should not have hesitated to present my services 
to the Missionary Society, at present, and thus avail my- 
self of the advantages of personal intercourse with Dr. 
Morrison. Neither of these was the case, however. It is 
now about a year since, I thought seriously of personally 
labouring in the foreign department of the Christian min- 
istry ; and although, at a more advanced period of life, 
twelve months' consideration and prayer might seem suffi- 
cient for determining a question even of this importance ; 
yet you will perceive, that my extreme youth altogether 
alters the case. If my wish to preach the gospel of Christ 
among the heathen, have in it aught of the romance of a 
boyish imagination, a few years' thought and experience 
will extinguish its ardor ; but if the Lord has appointed 
me to declare his name to the Gentiles, and that wish has 
been implanted in my breast by the Spirit of God, delays 
and disappointments will but foster its growth and make 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 125 

it yet more vigorous. For these reasons, I could not feel 
it my duty to make a direct application to the Missionary 
Society, to study in London under their superintendence. 
But, on the other hand, the facilities of acquiring oriental 
languages, which the metropolis presents at present, and 
which are very uncertain in their continuance, make me 
anxious to be in London, if possible. After considering 
the matter in all these points of view, consulting my friends 
here, and asking counsel and direction from the Most 
High, it seemed to me my duty to make application to 
Hoxton Academy, which is intended chiefly for the home 
department, but which sometimes also receives missionary 
students. This step, you see, had it been taken, would 
have given me all the advantages I could wish from an 
immediate residence in the capital, and yet have left my 
future destination still a matter of consideration and 
prayer. The letter I received from the Secretary of the 
Hoxton Committee, in answer to my application, satisfies 
me as to the duty of remaining another year in Scotland. 
Had I not made this application, I might have looked 
back with regret on the opportunities I had neglected ; 
but as it is, my conscience is satisfied in having done 
what I thought was my duty ; and those feelings are also 
gratified, which I had to struggle with, in the performance 
of that duty. Excuse me, my dear friend, for having 
dwelt so long on this subject. I am sorry that I have 
spent so much time, that I have little remaining to answer 
your very interesting and affecting letter." 

"Perth, September, 1825. 
"My Dear Friend — I do not know whether debts of 
kindness, like other debts, admit of being regularly 
11* 



126 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

summed up in a debtor and credit column, and balanced 
against each other. If so, though you confessed the 
balance due to me in your last, I fear your punctuality and 
my negligence have more than reversed the matter, and I 
am now much deeper in your debt than ever you have 
been in mine. I will not attempt to offer apologies. I 
might, I believe, conscientiously spin out some that would 
appear feasible, but I am always suspicious of the sin- 
cerity of a man's sorrow who expresses great contrition 
for a fault he has committed, which, at the same time, he 
labours with all his might to extenuate by every trifling 
excuse that can, or scarcely can be alleged for it. I have 
been negligent ; you will forgive me ; and there the matter 
must rest. I was much struck with the spirit of earnest 
affection and fervent piety that pervaded your last ; and 
the account you give of the employment of your leisure 
hours sufficiently explains the greater vividness of your 
spiritual affections. There is a beautiful action and reac- 
tion of our religious feelings and actions upon each other ; 
grace, shown to us by God, prompts us to deeds of charity 
to our fellow-men ; and these deeds, all-imperfect and even 
displeasing to God, as they must be in themselves from 
the sin that mingles with the purest of them, are again 
rewarded by a fresh supply of the favour of our God, which 
must again lead to deeds of yet more extended benevo- 
lence, which are again to meet with a richer reward from 
the inexhaustible resources of Almighty goodness. It is 
thus, that he who waters others is watered himself; and 
of such an individual John Bunyan's paradoxical lines are 
strikingly true : 

" ' A man there was, though some did count him mad, 
The more he cast away, the more he had.' 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 127 

I say not these things to flatter you. Even where the 
richest rewards are given for the most indefatigable labours 
of love, we must ever remember that no reward is deserved, 
and the individual should be ready to exclaim, with him 
who was instant in season and out of season in the duties 
of his office, and who was conscious that his labours were 
more abundant than those of any of his brethren, ' Yet 
not I, but the grace of God that was with me.' I thank 
you for your very kind admonitions on my weakness of 
faith. It has much to struggle with in a heart that is but 
partially renewed ; I fear very much that unsanctified con- 
fidence which is the most fearful temptation with which 
the adversary can assail us ; a confidence that sin cannot 
damp ; a confidence that, in some cases, the approach of 
death itself will not destroy, but which will lead its pos- 
sessor to the very gate of heaven and will only be dis- 
pelled when the fearful response is given, ' I never knew 
you, depart from me ye workers of iniquity/ Then he 
who has been deceived by its delusive whispers of ' peace, 
peace, when there was no peace/ shall exclaim in the very 
paroxysm of astonishment and despair, ' The harvest is 
past, the summer is ended, and I am not saved !' The 
consideration of such a case as this, should make us ' ex- 
amine ourselves, whether we be in the faith/ It is true, 
that, if we look to ourselves for comfort, we shall never 
obtain it ; but, it is equally true, that, if the gospel is not 
to us the spring of holiness as well as the source of our 
comfort, ' we are deceiving ourselves and the truth is not 
in us/ We must not dread the discovery that we have 
been making little progress, or even that we have been 
pursuing a retrograde motion in the Christian course ; nor 
must we smother every emotion of insecurity and danger 



128 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

that may rise on such a review. True, Ave must not cherish 
such emotions, and rest in them till they lead us to despair. 
They must lead us anew to the blood of sprinkling. That 
which gave consolation when all we could look back upon 
was an unbroken course of rebellion, will give consolation 
still ; and it is only by such a process, I conceive, that 
true comfort can be obtained. " 

During the summer months, besides teaching a Sabbath- 
school in the neighbourhood of Perth, and keeping his 
meeting with the young men once a week for conversation 
on the Scriptures, he diligently pursued his studies and a 
course of reading. From some memoranda among his 
papers, I find that he kept a regular account of every 
day's employment. It commences on the 12th of May, 
on which day he arrived at his father's. It then lays 
down the following plan of study and occupation for the 
future : " To rise at seven o'clock ; Greek Testament till 
eight ; walk till nine ; breakfast between nine and ten ; 
Hebrew Psalms till eleven ; Mathematics till twelve ; 
French till one ; Greek till two ; English reading till 
three ; dinner, three to four ; Latin, four to six ; tea, six 
to seven. Walk," &c. 

At the end of September is the following summary of 
his occupations for the preceding months : " Greek Testa- 
ment, Matthew to the Epistle to the Romans. Revised 
one hundred and eighty-four pages of Hebrew Grammar. 
Read forty verses of Hebrew Psalms. Revised six books 
of Euclid's Elements ; one hundred and twenty pages of 
Bridge's Algebra; wrote one essay and fifteen letters. 
Read seventy-two Lectures of Brown's Philosophy ; Bax- 
ter's Saint's Rest ; Gilbert's Life of Williams ; Edwards 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQTJHART. 129 

on Religious Affections ; Narrative of a Tour to the Grande 
Chartreuse ; Home's Letters on Missions ; Orme's Letter 
to Irving; fourteen Miscellaneous Discourses." 

It is evident, from this statement, that he did not pass 
his time idly or unprofitable*. It does not, however, con- 
tain the whole of his employments. Besides what is men- 
tioned above it appears from the daily entries, that he 
read several of the Orations of Cicero ; considerable por- 
tions of Homer, Thucydides, &c. He besides met with 
several interruptions, which repeatedly engrossed most of 
his time for a number of days together. 

The following excellent letter he wrote to his friend 
Craik, shortly before he went to London : — 

" Barossa Place, September 3, 1825. 
"My very Dear Friexd — I am astonished to find, 
on looking to the date of your last, that it is so long since 
I received it : and, probably, if you have been expecting a 
letter, the time, that has seemed to me like a few hours, 
may have been felt by you as if longer than it actually is. 
At least, so I feel. I always think my friends are very 
long in answering my letters, and yet I find, that, even 
when I conceived myself most punctual, I am more dila- 
tory than any of my correspondents. That is an apt 
personification of time, which represents him as a decrepit 
old man with wings, that are visible only from behind. 
While we watch his approach he seems to creep tardily 
along : it is not till he has passed us that we perceive be 
has been flying. I cannot tell you how much I felt on the 
receipt of your very splendid and very affectionate pre- 
sent. It has become so common, from the higher refine- 
ment of our day, in the acknowledgment of the most 



130 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQTTHART. 

common-place favour, for an individual to allege that he 
cannot express his gratitude, that I am almost ashamed 
to use the much-hackneyed phrase. But, in my case, it 
is used in simple honesty ; and I know you will believe me 
when I say so. The word 'memorial,' in the inscription, 
which of course struck my eye before reading your letter, 
affected me a good deal. I feared it was prophetic of 
separation, and looked anxiously over your letter for the 
passage which should tell me that you had got an appoint- 
ment to some situation which w T ould prevent our meeting 
in St. Andrew's next winter. I was agreeably relieved 
from my anxiety by finding in your last page, instead of 
an account of your fancied removal, a proposal of lodging 
in the same house with me. And I was pleased to think, 
that, by calling your present a ' memorial' of our friend- 
ship, you meant, perhaps, to remind me of the fleeting 
nature of our intercourse ; which soon, it may be very 
soon, will exist only in the recollection of the past. 

"My alternations of feeling somewhat resembled those 
of one, w T ho, on returning after a long absence, to the land 
of his nativity, should ask some passer-by, in pointing to 
a sepulchral pile before them, whose monument that was 
which seemed to have been so lately erected, and should 
be answered by the mention of the name of one whom he 
remembered as one of the dearest companions of his youth, 
and in whose company he had yet hoped again to revive 
the recollection of joys that had long departed, — a feel- 
ing, in some respects, more pleasing even than the joys 
themselves ; but whose informer, on perceiving the gloom 
that had overcast his countenance, should rejoin, not to 
think that he was dead, he was still alive for whom that 
monument was intended ; he had built it, not like many 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 131 

who in lifetime raise a splendid mausoleum for their dust, 
as if to demonstrate that infatuated man can be proud 
even of his frailty ; but to stimulate him to greater dili- 
gence in the improvement of a season, in which so much 
has to be done, which, at its longest, is so very short, and 
which even were it longer is so very uncertain. But 
whither am I wandering ? Excuse a mind that is some- 
times too fond of amplifying trifles. I would scarcely 
write in such a motley strain to any but yourself. If, 
however, Cowper published a moral poem on ' The Sofa,' 
I may be excused for moralizing in a private letter, on 
the word ' memorial.' " 

" Most of Newton's Letters I have read, and those I read 
with very great pleasure. And, though not perhaps after 
this particular author that I remember, yet, frequently 
after perusing such authors, have I shared in the feelings 
you express; a fear, that the spirit that animated such 
men is fast declining. Often have I asked myself the 
question, Is not Christianity the same now as it was in the 
days of Owen and Baxter, and Newton? and why then is 
it that we now so seldom meet with ' living epistles of 
Christ,' such as they were ? If we do not observe this 
lukewarmness, the world will. If ive do not use it as an 
incitement to greater fervency of prayer for the reviving 
influences of the divine Spirit, infidels will make their use 
of it, in drawing from it arguments against the power of 
religion. I have often thought that I perceived arguments 
against evangelical religion, far stronger than its opposers 
have ever adduced ; and I have wondered how they could 
escape the notice of such acute men as we have often had 
to mourn over among the 'enemies of the cross of Christ.' 



132 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUnART. 

I think it is the pious Newton, of whom we have just been 
speaking, who thinks he perceives in this, the watching of 
a gracious Providence, lest the mind of a weak believer 
should be shaken by the corroboration of those arguments 
from another, which must often have appeared fearfully 
alarming in his own experience. Were the opposers of 
evangelical truth, instead of their worn-out vocabulary of 
opprobrious epithets, to employ fair arguments from the 
inconsistency of Christians, many of us would be struck 
dumb. If c our treasure be in heaven, our heart will be 
there also/ And if our heart be there, since it is ' out 
of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh,' our 
conversation will be about heavenly things. How differ- 
ent, however, is the case ! On this subject there are two 
or three very beautiful verses, which I have just read, in 
a collection of hymns, by Thomas Kelly, (I know very 
little about the author ; the volume I quote them from 
belongs to a sister of Robert Trail's) in which, although 
there is no great strength of conception, or beauty of 
imagery, there are contained some strains of lively piety 
and Christian feeling, expressed in very simple language. 
Such, I think, are these verses, paraphrased from, or 
rather suggested by, Malachi iii. 16. c Then they that 
feared the Lord, spake often one to another/ &c. 

" j Why should believers, when they meet, 

Not speak of Christ, the King they own ; 
Who gives them hope that they shall sit 
With him for ever on his throne ? 

Is any other name so great 

As his who bore the sinner's load ? 
Is any subjeqj half so sweet, 

So various as the love of God ? 






MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 133 

>Tis this that charms reluctant man, 

That makes his opposition cease : 
Beholding love's amazing plan, 

He drops his arms, and sues for peace. 

'Twas so with us, we once were foes, 

"Were foes to Him who gave us breath ; 
But he whose mercy freely flows, 

Has saved us from eternal death. 

We look with hope to that great day, 

When Jesus will with clouds appear, 
A sight of him will well repay 

Our labours and our sorrows here. 

Of Him then let us speak and sing, 

Whose glory we expect to share ; 
In heaven we shall behold our King, 

And yield a nobler tribute there/ 



" I cannot help mentioning, that I, last week, received 

a letter from our friend Mr. T , very richly imbued 

with Christian feeling. Political economy, and even 
church establishments, were fairly cast in the shade ; and 
there was an earnestness of affection, and warmth of feel- 
ing manifested, while writing on the grand subjects of our 
common faith, and expatiating on the endearments of 
Christian friendship, of which you would scarcely believe 
our phlegmatic friend susceptible; and with which only 
such subjects could inspire him. 

" The account Mr. T gives of the employment of his 

leisure hours, sufficiently explains (to me at least) this 
increased spirituality of his mind. He had been, for some 
time, paying daily visits to the ' house of mourning.' 
12 



134 MEMOIR OF JOHN IT RQ IT HART. 

Two of the people he has been accustomed to visit, died 
during the summer ; of none of them he thinks he had 
hope in their death." 

In the month of September he went to London, on a 
visit to his friend, Mr. Adam ; in the course of which, he 
spent a few days with me, the last of my earthly inter- 
course with him. The following extract of a letter from 
Mr. Adam, to me, notices this visit, and some of the ob- 
jects which occupied his attention during the following 
winter, after his return to St. Andrew's. 

" At the close of the session he persuaded me, before 
leaving for England, to spend a short time with his friends 
at Perth, which I did ; and before returning again the fol- 
lowing winter, I persuaded him to pay me a visit in return, 
at Homerton. During this visit, he was introduced to Dr. 
Morrison and Mr. Townley, and openly expressed the wish 
he had fostered previously in his bosom, to devote himself to 
missionary labours. We returned to College together, and 
being linked by a new bond, a common desire to benefit 
the heathen, we applied ourselves afresh to our general 
studies, and to a thorough investigation of everything re- 
lating to missions. For this purpose we searched the 
sacred Scriptures, and summed up our inquiries under the 
head of precepts, prophecies, examples, and promises. 
We also perused Brown's History of Missions ; Home's, 
Ward's, Milne's, and Judson's Letters ; the Lives of 
Martyn, (which he read repeatedly, and eagerly drank 
into his spirit,) Brainerd and Chamberlain ; Ward's His- 
tory of the Hindoos, &c. During this winter our Society 
flourished, and several essays were read, not only by our- 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 135 

selves, but by others, some of whom we believed to be 
inquiring after the path of duty; and, as I perceived, were 
not a little influenced by the powerful and affecting man- 
ner in which John pleaded the claims of the heathen. 
With a sedulous attention to his engagements at the Col- 
lege, he found time to visit the sick, to give his assistance 
at some little meetings formed for the religious instruction 
of the poor during the week, and occasionally to supply 
some village stations, where there was preaching on a Sun- 
day. I had forgotten to say, at the beginning of this 
session he laboured diligently for a time at the Chinese, 
and actually accomplished, by his unaided endeavours, a 
translation of the first chapter of John's Gospel. Atten- 
tion to so many different objects rendered it absolutely 
necessary that he should soon relinquish the least pressing, 
and consequently, as I believe, laid it by, and never after- 
wards resumed it." 

In a letter to his father, from London, he gives some 
account of his visit, and of his future plans. It contains 
also some remarks on my respected friend, Dr. Morrison, 
which are so just, that I cannot keep them back. I be- 
lieve the character and manners of that devoted individual 
have not been properly understood, and in some quarters 
have been treated with a degree of unintentional injustice. 
His long and retired residence in a far distant country, 
and his absorption in the great object which he has so 
ardently and successfully pursued, sufficiently account for 
certain marked peculiarities, which I am convinced had 
no foundation in any obliquity of temper or disposition. 
Justice to one of the most enlightened and devoted ser- 
vants of Christ, which this or any age has furnished, re- 



136 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

quires that I should bear this testimony, while I introduce 
the observations of my young friend. 

" Marshgate, Homerton, Oct. 20, 1825. 
" My Dear Father — In company with Mr. Adam I 
called on Dr. Morrison a few days after my arrival, who 
received us with that bluntness by which his manners are 
characterized, which has by some been represented as 
approaching to rudeness ; but which is evidently not the 
want of kindness, but a superiority to those petty expres- 
sions of it which are often used, in our too-refined age, 
as a covering for coldness and indifference. Neither did 
I find in Dr. Morrison, as some of our friends had repre- 
sented to me, an overweening conceit of his own sphere of 
exertion. What he said of missions, had more in it of 
calm rationality, and less of enthusiasm, than I should 
have even expected from a man who had spent seventeen 
years in a heathen country. Dr. Morrison very kindly 
offered to introduce me to his students at the Missionary 
Society's rooms, in Austin-friars, where the Doctor attends 
three days in the week, to give instructions in Chinese. 
I have attended there, with a few exceptions, every day 
since my arrival, and have seen as much of the mode of 
studying the language as may enable me, should I wish to 
pursue it, to do so alone. Dr. Morrison has offered me a 
loan of the books that are requisite, which are very expen- 
sive, (the Dictionary alone having been published at 
thirteen guineas ;) and has also made me a present of a 
small work, which he has just published, entitled the 
' Chinese Miscellany.' With these helps, I hope to do 
something at the language this winter, in St. Andrew's, 
and should I never make any actual use of it, it will be a 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 137 

good mental exercise. I have not yet called on Mr. 
Wilson, but intend to do so before I leave ; but I think it 
likely that with my present views, my case does not come 
within the province of any of the home theological acade- 
mies. My plan is to return to St. Andrew's, to devote 
the winter to my ordinary studies, give a little time to 
Chinese, and more especially, along with my dear friend 
John Adam, to consider very seriously those passages of 
Scripture which relate to missionary exertion, as well as 
to collect from other sources all the information possible 
upon this interesting subject, and to pray more earnestly 
than I have yet done, for direction in this particular mat- 
ter. I thus hope by the conclusion of the winter, so far to 
have made up my mind as may enable me either to offer my 
services to the Missionary Society, or to apply for admission 
to some Dissenting academy. May the Lord direct me ! 
I think you may perceive that my visit to this place has 
not been to no purpose. There is much general informa- 
tion that I have obtained, which the narrow limits of a 
single letter do not permit me to communicate ; and much 
more which is of such a nature that it is not very easy to 
communicate by writing at all ; and, on account of which 
chiefly, a personal visit seemed advisable." 



Dr. Morrison generously presented him with his Dic- 
tionary ; and the papers which he left behind, sufficiently 
evince how ardently he entered into the study of that 
difficult language. He appears to have mastered some of 
its peculiarities ; to have committed a number of its radi- 
cals to memory ; and to have translated, as Mr. Adam 
states, the whole of the first chapter of John. 
12* 



138 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

It was during this session that Dr. Chalmers committed 
to his charge the Sabbath-school, which met in his own 
house ; and I am sure it will not give offence to that re- 
spected individual, to find a record in these pages, of the 
gratitude and affection of his late pupil, for the attentions 
which were so kindly shown him. 

" St. Andrew's, December 6, 1825. 
" My Dear Father — The first general meeting of our 
University Missionary Society was held yesterday. This 
institution seems now, under the blessing of God, to have 
weathered all the opposition that threatened at first to 
crush it, and promises fair to be established on a secure 
basis, and to extend the field of its usefulness. The digni- 
taries of our College profess to have quite changed their 
opinion with regard to it. Dr. Nicol confesses, that the 
reports we sent him, gave him information that was quite 
new to him. Last year, we were refused a room in the 
College, and could scarcely obtain a place of meeting in the 
town ; now Dr. Haldane tells us, that the Divinity-Hall is 
at our service, or any other place which his influence can 
command. This offer we did not accept, as we had already 
obtained the old Episcopal chapel, as a place of meeting, 
which is more comfortable and convenient for our purpose, 
than any other place we could obtain. Our two principals 
have not given us fair words merely, but have testified 
their sincerity, by sending us a donation of a guinea each, 
with the promise of more on the part of Dr. Nicol. These 
are triumphs, which the most sanguine advocates of the 
cause would, a few years ago, have thought it not only 
ridiculous to expect, but almost foolish even to wish for. 
With God, however, all things are possible ; and it is be- 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 139 

cause we expect so little, and desire so little, and pray for 
so little on the faith of his promises, that these promises 
are not more speedily and more triumphantly accom- 
plished. 

" I think I mentioned, in my letter to my mother, that I 
had engaged to teach Dr. Chalmers's Sabbath-school dur- 
ing the winter : my school at Denino, in consequence, is 
left destitute. I have heard that the children are desirous 
that it should be begun again. Mr. Adam has commenced 
his operations, and I have been giving him some assist- 
ance. I think it advisable, with my present prospects, 
that I should engage rather more prominently in such em- 
ployments, than otherwise I would be inclined to do. 

" Dr. Chalmers has been more than kind to me this year : 
indeed, I feel almost oppressed by his attention. As my 
school is held in his house, I generally sup with him on 
Sunday evening, when I enjoy much more of his conversa- 
tion than at set parties, as he and Mrs. Chalmers are then 
generally alone. I was very much gratified by a walk I 
had with Dr. Chalmers, to visit the parents of the children 
who attend his school. The people in some of the houses, 
seemed to recognize him familiarly, so that he is probably 
often engaged in the same labours of love. He thinks 
such exercises as visiting the poor and the sick, the best 
introduction to ministerial labour. 'This/ he said, as we 
were going along, ' is what I call preaching the gospel to 
every creature. That cannot be done by setting yourself 
up in a pulpit, as a centre of attraction, but by going forth 
and making aggressive movements upon the community, 
and by preaching from house to house/ I mention these 
remarks more freely, as I think this is a duty by far too 
much neglected among our Dissenting ministers.' ' 



140 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

The Sabbath-school which he engaged to teach this 
winter, in the house of his respected Professor, from whom 
he experienced invariable kindness, appears to have occu- 
pied his attention very closely. In a book now before 
me, is contained a list of the names of the young persons, 
with their places of residence. A list of tracts then fol- 
lows, which belonged to the school library, with Dr. Chal- 
mers's remarks on the character of each. Then a list of 
tracts, and small books, read by himself, with his own 
account of their nature and tendency. He has also writ- 
ten out, very fully, some of the school exercises on the 
Scriptures, which do great credit to his knowledge of the 
Scriptures, and his tact for communicating that knowledge. 

This winter he entered the Natural Philosophy class ; 
and, likewise, attended the Hebrew class. In this lan- 
guage he had before made considerable progress, by the 
help of some Hebrew books which I had put into his hands. 
He likewise, as appears from his papers, studied hard 
at Chinese for some time ; and only gave it up from the 
greater urgeney of some other objects. ■ 

His mind was now completely absorbed in the contem- 
plation of future missionary labour : and to this object, all 
his pursuits became subservient. The letter of his friend 
Adam, shows how much he studied it. The paper book, 
containing the arrangement of the plan of investigating 
the subject remains, and contains many extracts from the 
Scriptures, and from various books, on the subject of mis- 
sions, and numerous references, which prove how very 
fully he had examined the matter. It would be very de- 
sirable, indeed, if those who offer themselves for this ser- 
vice, were found generally to possess such a knowledge of 
the work which they profess to undertake. Almost all his 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 141 

letters and papers, from this time, bear upon this subject, 
and display at once the depth of his piety, the ardour of 
his zeal, and the large portion of good sense with which 
he contemplated the service of Christ. 

Desirous of obtaining advice, and of engaging the prayers 
of his friends on his behalf, he applied to those in whose 
judgment and piety he placed confidence, to assist him. 
The following is a letter of this kind : — 

"My Dear and much Respected Friend — It is now 
about eleven o'clock on Sunday evening, and I have been 
engaged almost the whole of the day in public exercises, 
so that you will be disposed to excuse a hurried letter. I 
write these lines chiefly to renew my request, that you 
would favour me with your correspondence on a subject 
which now most deeply engages my attention ; the deter- 
mination of the sphere of labour in which I can most use- 
fully spend my life, if the Lord spare me, and honour me 
to do the work of an evangelist. I do not know whether 
there be any impropriety in my making this request ; if 
there be, you must lay it to the account of my ignorance, 
and forgive me. Were I soliciting your advice merely for 
the sake of promoting my own interest, I should feel that 
my request was stamped with a character of very gross 
egotism. But I feel that I am the property of Christ, 
and of his church ; and that even my feeble services may 
have some influence on his cause ; and in this view of the 
subject you will not think me selfish, in desiring your 
attention to what might at first appear my own private 
affairs. Almost every person I have conversed with on 
the matter, urges upon me the duty of attending to the 
wants of our own country, and assuredly, if our own coun- 



142 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

try were more neglected, or even as much neglected as 
other lands, I should feel the argument in all its force. 
I do think that our own countrymen have the first claim 
upon our attention, and I am inclined to think that the 
first preachers of Christianity would have declared the 
message of mercy first to the Jews, even though no express 
command had been given to preach to all nations, begin- 
ning at Jerusalem. But I cannot see how the claims of a 
native land can be stronger to a Gentile, than the claims 
of their own favoured nation were to the Jewish Christians. 
On this account, I think we are quite safe in taking the 
apostles for our example, in their conduct towards their 
countrymen. They did not wait till every dark corner of 
Judea was fully evangelized ; far less till every heart had 
been savingly impressed by the truth. It was no argu- 
ment to them to remain in Judea, that there were many 
who heard their message, that after all had refused to re- 
ceive it. On the contrary, this was the very signal for 
their departure. (Acts xiii. 46; xxviii. 24-29.) I do 
feel much for the dark places of our own beloved country; 
but it does seem to me that the evangelical ministers of 
Britain could, with very little effort, publish the gospel 
most fully to every individual in the land. And they 
would do well to examine how far they are not guilty of 
the blood of souls, in not making more vigorous exertions 
for the heathen around their own doors. If a pastor of a 
church cannot do the work of an evangelist, let a separate 
person be maintained by every body of Christians, for this 
purpose ; or, if each church cannot accomplish this, let a 
number of churches join in order to do so. I am aware that 
this is partly done by the itinerant societies, which are now 
beginning their operations, and I rejoice to see it; but 



MEMOIR OF JOHN UKQUHART. 143 

still this is but a very feeble effort, compared with the 
necessities of the case. I still am inclined to think that 
the publication of the gospel, as a message of mercy to 
sinners, is the grand object for which the Christian minis- 
try was instituted, at least it is one of the greatest objects. 
I do think that even the edification of the body of Christ, 
yields to it in point of importance. We believe that if a 
sinner once embraces the gospel, he cannot finally fall 
away ; and even if his progress in the divine life should 
be slow, we know that in a very few years at the furthest, 
a full display of the glories of the divine character must 
burst upon him. Now, whether is it a more important work 
to rescue a sinner from hell, and place him in this con- 
dition of safety, or to antedate, in a very slight degree, 
the happiness of a future state, in one who has believed ? 
For all our advances in the knowledge of divine truth here 
must be held insignificant, when compared with the im- 
mense addition to our knowledge and our happiness, which 
we shall receive at that time when the dim conceptions of 
faith shall be exchanged for the bright realities of actual 
vision. I beg that you would not understand me as esti- 
mating lightly the work of grace in the hearts of believers. 
It is only when contrasted with the work of regeneration, 
that I would ever think of it as of secondary importance. 
But I am not sure that the work of grace would go on 
more slowly in the hearts of believers, from the attention 
of the pastors being more called to the work of evangel- 
izing the heathen. I do think in the present day we are 
apt to trust too much to public ordinances, and I would 
almost like to see Christians more thrown upon the re- 
sources of private devotion, and more direct communion 
with God. Our knowledge of divine things, to be sure, is 



144 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

small ; but oh ! that our piety were but equal to our know- 
ledge. I am sorry to be obliged to conclude so abruptly/ ' 

His correspondent wrote him an excellent letter in reply 
to this, which produced another from him, which I subjoin : 

"St. Andrew's, February 4, 1826. 
"My Dear Friend — I feel much encouraged by your 
very kind letter. However clear the way of duty may seem 
to be marked out by our own conscience, still it gives us a 
much surer confidence in our own convictions, when they 
are strengthened by the concurring sentiments of our 
Christian friends, especially of those friends whom we 
highly esteem. I am not sorry on the whole, that hitherto 
my friends have all opposed my desire to preach Christ 
among the heathen. Perhaps it is well that we should 
have to wade through a good deal of opposition, in making 
up our mind on a subject of such importance. There is 
an air of romance which invests the subject of missionary 
adventure, when first it is presented to the mind of the 
young disciple ; (what Mr. Malan in writing to my friend 
Mr. Adam, calls 'un trait de l'imagination ;') and it is well, 
perhaps, that this false fire should be damped by opposi- 
tion. It is a principle, I believe, among the Moravians, 
c never to persuade any person to be a missionary.' And 
perhaps we should still act in the spirit of this maxim, did 
we even carry it so far as rather to repress than to stimu- 
late the incipient zeal of the candidate for missionary ser- 
vice. For surely if our desire for the work cannot stand 
against the remonstrances of our friends, we have every 
reason to think that it would soon be quenched amid the 
heavy and lengthened discouragements which must be met 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 145 

with in the work itself. If the desire to serve my Saviour 
among the heathen were merely of myself, it is not like the 
fickleness of my natural disposition to have persevered in 
it till now, while meeting with so little encouragement. I 
do trust that the Spirit of the Lord has implanted this 
desire in my breast, and I know that he will perfect what 
he has begun. You speak of the difficulties connected 
with the work of a missionary. I can assure you, my 
dear friend, that as I have perused the history of former 
labourers, they have thickened upon my view. It is not 
to the natural dangers and hardships of the missionary 
life that I refer. It is not the prospect of encountering 
the diseases of an insalubrious atmosphere, with a frame 
that is not very robust, which affects me. If we perish in 
such a cause, we perish gloriously, and in this respect we 
1 conquer though we are slain.' There is something sweet 
in the contemplation of suffering for Christ's sake. ' If 
we suffer with him, we shall also reign with him.' And 
1 the more we toil and suffer here, the sweeter rest will be/ 
These are not the difficulties that I fear. But, I confess, 
I do tremble when I think of the spiritual dangers, the 
temptations of a heathen land, where all those barriers are 
broken down, which are the only safe-guards of the boasted 
virtue of the great mass of our community, and which ope- 
rate, perhaps more strongly than he is aware, in restrain- 
ing those evil propensities and worldly lusts, with which 
even the Christian has to contend. I have been very much 
depressed to find the instances of apostasy among mission- 
aries, so very numerous ; and that some, who, for a long 
time did run well, were afterwards hindered by ' the lust of 
the flesh, or the lust of the eye, or the pride of life.' While 
I look at this dark side of the picture, there is nothing 
13 



146 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

gives me any comfort, but a complete reliance on the faith- 
fulness of Him who has promised that as our day is, so 
shall our strength be. Oh, for a stronger faith in my 
Redeemer ! a closer walk with my God ! I see that spiritu- 
ality of mind is the main qualification for the work of a 
missionary, and this is the very qualification which I feel 
that I most want. But I believe that He who hath given 
the desire to serve him, will also give the ability to fulfil 
that desire. I know that though weak in myself, I am 
strong in him. And I will rest in the promises of his love. 
Christ, when he dwells in the heart by faith, can impart 
of his own omnipotence to weakness itself; for through 
him, (may the weakest Christian say,) I can do all things. 
I have been struck with the view you give of the pastoral 
office, as raising up labourers. It is a view of it which I 
had not sufficiently considered. When we look intently at 
one object, it is very probable that other most interesting 
objects may altogether escape our notice; and so when 
the mind is much occupied with the consideration of a 
single object, the very intensity of our attention to it may 
be the means of obscuring our perception of other objects 
equally important. Dr. Chalmers has of late plied me a 
good deal with the same kind of argument for remaining 
in this country. i You may render even to the cause of 
missions,' he says, 6 perhaps greater service in raising up 
labourers by your preaching here.' My reply to this, 
however, is just a reference to facts. Christianity has 
been long preached, and many converts have been made 
in our own land, and the cause of Christian philanthropy, 
moreover, has been most ably pleaded ; but notwithstand- 
ing, when labourers are called for, the eloquent advocates 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART, 147 

of missions shrink back, and scarce any are found to go 
forth." 

Among his papers I find the notes of a speech which he 
delivered at a missionary meeting at Cupar of Fife, on a 
Monday evening, in the month of February. It was writ- 
ten late on the Sabbath night preceding, and early on the 
Monday morning. He walked to Gupar, delivered his ad- 
dress, and returned early the next morning to St. An- 
drew's. It is full of ardour, and replete with Christian 
feeling, though perhaps he carries some of his views a 
little too far. I should have given it in this place, as well 
deserving of insertion ; but being somewhat similar to an 
address. afterwards delivered at St. Andrew's, on the same 
subject, I omit it to make room for other matter. Such 
an address by one so young, could not fail to produce a 
very powerful effect. I pray that those who read it, may 
feel it equally with those_ who heard it. 

Much as John's mind was engaged with foreign objects, 
he did not forget those who had a claim upon him at home. 
His own family, and a few particular friends were the 
objects of his warmest attachment; and for the salvation 
of some of them he laboured faithfully with themselves, 
and wrestled mightily with God. I venture to give the 
following to his brother, as a specimen of combined fidelity 
and tenderness of rare occurrence. There is also in that 
letter, and in the one which follows, to his mother, a mani- 
festation of that exquisite sensibility, which characterized 
him, and which made his devotion to the work of a mis- 
sionary no ordinary sacrifice. The prospect of leaving 
his country and his father's house, was to him one of inex- 
pressible anguish ; but the consideration of what was due 



148 MEMOIR OF JOHN TJRQUHART. 

to the authority and glory of Christ, impelled him forward. 
With talents not inferior to those of Martyn, he had feel- 
ings no less powerful than those of that devoted mission- 
ary ; and though he was not honoured to follow him in his 
glorious career, yet as having it in his heart, I doubt not 
he now inherits with him a portion of his reward. 

" St. Andrew's, February 10, 1825. 

" My very Dear Brother — I have long thought of 
writing to you ; and, indeed, had a letter half finished a 
w T eek or two ago. I have at last been able to get a day 
nearly clear of engagements, and I am glad to spend it in 
making up a packet of letters for my friends in Perth. I 
begin with you ; and, as I wish, if possible, to get five or 
six letters written, you will excuse me, if 1 am more brief 
than I otherwise should be in writing to an only brother. 
I have often wished, my dear David, to have some closer 
intercourse with you than I have yet had, on religious sub- 
jects, either by conversation or by letter. The latter 
method is the only one in my power, at present ; and, in 
some respects I think it the most advantageous, as we can 
express our sentiments both more deliberately, and more 
freely than we perhaps could in personal intercourse. I 
hope you will not think me obtrusive in bringing this sub- 
ject before you. Believing, as I do, that not only a right 
understanding of the gospel, but also, a real belief of its 
truths, is necessary to our happiness, either here, or in 
that mysterious state which is after death, you cannot 
surely wonder that I should be anxious to know the feel- 
ings of my dearest friends, in regard to this important 
subject. We, my dear brother, have enjoyed very distin- 
guished privileges^ in having a knowledge of the gospel 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 149 

from our infancy. But although early religious instruc- 
tion is a most inestimable blessing, it has also its disadvan- 
tages. We, who know the gospel, and whose early pre- 
judices, (the strongest of all prejudices,) are in favour of 
the gospel, are very apt to rest in our knowledge, or in 
our attachment to certain religious opinions, as a proof of 
our faith, and consequently of a state of safety in regard 
to another world. Now, I think, it is of the very greatest 
importance, to remember that there can be no belief where 
there is no feeling. In the ordinary affairs of life, we are 
disposed at once to admit, that a man cannot believe any- 
thing, without being suitably impressed by it. And how 
then should we be for a moment deluded into the opinion, 
that in this one instance, where the truths are calculated 
to make the very deepest impressions — in this, and in this 
alone, these truths can be believed without being felt? 
Would you think me censorious, if I would say, I feared 
you were not a Christian ? Would you not be quite 
startled, if I said I suspected you to be an infidel ? I do 
not mean, my dear David, to make either of these asser- 
tions, far less to do so in a spirit of censoriousness. But 
I will confess to you, that I have an uncertainty of the 
matter, which fills me with the greatest concern on your 
account. We start at the name of infidel. And we are 
very apt to think, that a man may be unregenerate, and 
yet very far removed from anything like infidelity. We 
are very apt to think that there may be such a thing as a 
half Christian, one who is almost a Christian. But it is 
silly to be deluded by mere names. The Bible tells us, 
that ' he who believeth shall be saved, and he who believeth 
not, shall be condemned.' We are told of no transition 
state in another world, half-way between heaven and hell, 
13* 



150 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

or nearer the one than the other. No ; we must either 
rise to inconceivable glory, or sink into unutterable woe. 
The grand question is, Do ive believe the gospel, or do we 
not? This, and this alone, fixes our after-state. If we 
believe, we shall reign with saints and angels ; if we do not 
believe, if we have hesitated whether we should receive the 
gospel or not, if we have been even almost persuaded to 
believe ; and if moreover, we have been possessed of all 
the knowledge and even all the graces that can adorn an 
unregenerate character ; still, notwithstanding all, if mat- 
ters stop here, we must be condemned throughout eternity, 
to herd with the very outcasts of society, with blasphemers 
and atheists, with liars and murderers. This is a very 
fearful view of the matter, but is it not the view which the 
Scriptures present ? And it is this view of the matter 
that leads me to fear, and even (I acknowledge) to sus- 
pect, that my own brother may be among the number of 
those who are securely, and even cheerfully, walking on 
to the pit of endless perdition. This is an awful thought, 
and^I have felt its awfulness. Often have I wept from 
the bitterness of the thought, that we may soon part never 
to meet again ; and, excepting the prayers I have offered 
for my own forgiveness, the most earnest petitions I have 
ever presented at the throne of mercy, have been those I 
have put up for a brother s salvation. I believe there is 
an efficacy in prayer, and I am not without the hope that 
these prayers will be answered. I have sometimes thought, 
that I could see that you had a conviction that all was not 
right with you ; that, after all, there was a something in 
Christianity which you had not experienced. I could re- 
member, that such was the state of my own mind, when 
the Spirit of God first strove with my rebellious heart, and 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 151 

the hope dawned upon me, that this might be the begin- 
ning of his working on your mind. That hope has often 
been blasted by your indifference, or your open rebellion 
against God ; but, though often blasted, I will still continue 
to cherish it. The Lord grant that it may be realized. 
I have written these lines for your own private perusal ; 
and, therefore, I laid aside that veil of propriety, by which, 
in ordinary life, we are accustomed to conceal our feelings, 
and I have laid open my heart before you. I do not 
think you have the hardness to laugh at my concern on 
your account ; but, if even this should be the effect of this 
letter, still I shall not regret that I have told you all I 
feel. This letter has been preceded and accompanied with 
prayer, and part of it has been written in tears. God is 
sometimes pleased to work by the most insignificant 
agents ; and I am not without the hope, that by the bless- 
ing of his Spirit, these confused expressions of a brother's 
heart-felt desire for your salvation, may be made the 
means of softening your heart, and leading you to receive 
the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ with humility and 
with joy. 

" There is one circumstance, my dear brother, that has 
especially led me to open my heart before you at present, 
and to urge thus solemnly and earnestly upon you, the 
acceptance of the gospel. You have heard, probably, that 
I have determined to spend my life in preaching to the 
heathen. I feel that even the innocent pleasures of this 
life are all of them unsatisfactory ; and, in many instances, 
tend to draw the mind from heavenly objects. And, from 
all the information I can collect, I am convinced that I 
can serve my God more effectually, by declaring his name 
where it never has been declared before, than by repeat- 



152 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

ing the gospel to those who have often heard, and as often 
refused it. But the thought that I am soon to leave this 
land, never to return, makes me feel it a more urgent duty 
while I remain, to press the truths of the gospel on the 
attention of those who are my countrymen ; and especially 
to warn most solemnly, and most earnestly to persuade those 
who are dearest to me by the ties of nature. A few months, 
my brother, and our earthly intercourse must be for ever 
at an end. Shall I hope to meet you in heaven ? give 
me an answer to this question, for on yourself its answer 
depends. I confess that, in the prospect of leaving my 
parents, one-half of the great burden that lies upon my 
mind, would be removed, could I confidently rely on the 
religious principles of my sister, and especially of yourself, 
who, in a short time, will be their only son, and almost 
their only earthly protector. There are occurrences that 
must here present themselves to your mind, which you 
must know, wound my feelings most deeply in the pros- 
pect of separation ; but these I will not call to mind. 
that the God of the families of Israel may cause his peace 
to abide upon my father's house ! 

" You know that my parents feel deeply at the thought 
of my departure. I am sure, that if they could feel a 
thorough confidence in you, my brother, it would go far to 
reconcile them to what I believe to be the will of God 
concerning me. I know, my dear David, that you are 
often placed in difficult circumstances ; but a belief of the 
gospel, and a spirit of prayer, will go far to enable you to 
act calmly and meekly under the most trying circum- 
stances. Believe in Jesus Christ, and look to him, and 
in looking to him, you will reflect his image ; you will 
become like him. Thus, and thus alone, will you leara 



MEMOIR OP JOHN URQUHART. 153 

like him, when you are reviled, not to revile again ; and 
even when you suffer, not to threaten. 

" You see, my brother, I have many reasons for urging 
upon you these solemn warnings and earnest entreaties. 
I beseech you to believe in Christ. I beseech you to take 
his yoke upon you, and learn of him, for ' his yoke is easy, 
and his burden is light.' I beseech you to learn of him to 
be meek and lowly. I entreat you to do these things, if 
you would save your own soul : if you would fulfil the best 
and most earnest wishes of an affectionate and only 
brother ; if you would, in some degree, alleviate the sor- 
row of one who is soon to part with all he holds dear on 
earth; and finally, if you would comfort our bereaved 
parents, if you would make up the breach which the resist- 
less hand of death has so lately made, and which the im- 
perious calls of duty soon must make again, in that little 
family which I must try to think no longer my home." 

" St. Andrew's, February 14, 1826. 
" My Dear Mother — My work of letter writing has 
taken up nearly all my private time, for two days ; and I 
still feel that there are some who may be expecting to 
hear from me, to whom it will be quite impossible for me 
to write. Although I have written to my father, (which 
I always think the same as writing to you,) yet I cannot 
think of letting my parcel go, without sending a few lines 
expressly to yourself. All my friends seem doubly dear 
to me, since I have thought of parting with them. There 
was nothing in the prospect of a separation, my dear 
mother, that gave me greater pain, than the thought of 
wounding your feelings ; and, accordingly, in my late visit, 
I was very much rejoiced to hear you speak so calmly 



154 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

and resignedly on the subject. Even in this life, God has 
promised to restore a hundred fold anything we give up 
for his sake. And I do think, that even these trials in 
themselves carry a blessing along with them. The pros- 
pect of an early separation from all I hold dear on earth, 
bitter as the thought is, has, notwithstanding, proved to 
me a real blessing. I have felt an inexpressible dreariness 
in looking forward, while I think only of the things that 
are seen and temporal. But then, the very dreariness 
which seems to hang over my earthly prospects, has led 
me to look more earnestly to heaven, as my home, and 
the place of my rest. And, if we can but steadily fix the 
eye of faith on the heavenly inheritance, the glory of the 
promised land will shed a brightness even over the gloomi- 
est part of this valley of tears. I know, my dear mother, 
that you have many trials ; and I could wish much to 
soothe the declining years of that dear friend, who watched 
over my helpless infancy. I would like to be able to make 
some return for the anxious hours, and the sleepless nights, 
I have cost you. This I may never have in my power ; 
but wherever my lot may be cast, I shall never forget the 
tenderness of a mother's love ; never shall I forget the 
afiectionate solicitude which brought you to our bed-side 
every evening, to see that all was safe with us, ere your 

own eye could close in sleep ; never shall I forget . 

But it is wrong to indulge in this. Let us forget the 
things that are behind, and rather delight to dwell on the 
glory and the happiness that are before us. Oh, how 
highly favoured are we, my mother, with the blessed hope 
of a glorious immortality ! God, it is true, has removed 
one of your children ; and, for His sake, you are called to 
give up another ; but still, though the cup may be bitter, 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 155 

it is a Father's hand that has mingled it. ' Trials make 
the promise sweet.' You will be able now, more than 
ever, to enjoy the delightful assurance, that the Lord 
will be to his people a portion, better than of sons and 
daughters. 

" And again, if we but think of what Christ has done 
for us, we shall not think any sacrifice too great that we 
can make for him. He left the bosom of the Father, and 
emptied himself of his glory, and suffered more than ever 
man suffered, and died for us. Should we not then feel 
all the force of the argument, which tells us we are not 
our own, having been bought by Christ, when he gave his 
blood as our ransom price ? Is it not then a reasonable 
service, to offer our bodies a living sacrifice to him ? And 
then, there is the blest assurance, that if we suffer with 
him, we shall also reign with him." 

The following is to the afflicted friend, to whom some 
of his former letters were addressed : — 

" St. Andrew's, March 5, 1826. 
"My very Dear Friend — You can easily conceive 
how difficult it is for a young person, enjoying in all its 
fulness, the inestimable blessing of health, and whose mind 
is ever actively engaged with one subject or another, all 
at once to place himself in the circumstances of an aged 
and long afflicted Christian. Yet this I must try to do, 
ere I can write in a strain of sympathy with your feelings. 
But though I cannot enter as I could wish, into your 
peculiar circumstances, or write with all that closeness of 
sympathy, or administer that experimental consolation, 
which the person could, who had seen as much of life's 



156 MEMOIR OF JOHN IT R QUI! ART. 

chequered scene, and passed through like trials with your- 
self ; yet there are always some subjects on which Chris- 
tians feel a common interest, however different their 
circumstances, and however varied their experience. The 
great objects of our salvation are alike interesting in youth 
and in age ; in joy and in sorrow ; in health and in sick- 
ness ; in seasons of prosperity, and in the day of trial. 
What was said by a learned heathen of his favourite 
studies, (most beautifully, but most extravagantly in his 
application of it,) might with great propriety be used by 
the Christian in speaking of the truths of the Bible : 
" These studies cherish youth, soothe old age, adorn pros- 
perity, and form in adversity a refuge and consolation ; 
at home they are our delight, abroad they are no incum- 
brance ; they are with us by night, they journey with us, 
and in our country retreat they are with us still." What 
a pity that worldly men should be so enthusiastic in the 
praise of their favourite pursuits, while Christians are so 
dull and careless about objects so much more highly de- 
serving of their love. How few Christians are there who 
could heartily, and from their own experience, apply to 
the joys and the consolations of the gospel, those ardent 
expressions of delight which a heathen philosopher employs 
in regard to merely human learning. So true is it, that 
the children of this world are wiser in their generation, 
than the children of light. 

" I should suppose, that to an aged Christian who cannot 
look for much longer continuance in the church below, the 
state and employment of the church above must be pecu- 
liarly interesting. To all Christians it must be a subject 
of the most delightful contemplation ; but more especially 
to those who hope to be very soon released from the prison- 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 157 

house of the body. It was the joy set before him, which 
bore our Lord through the ignominy, and the torture of 
his sufferings. And surely the prospect of such a glory 
as is set before his disciples, may well encourage and sup- 
port them through every difficulty and every trial. It 
may well reconcile us to suffer with Christ, when we know 
that this is the sure pledge of our reigning with him. 
They who have been deepest in suffering for Christ's sake, 
shall be highest in glory. They who would sit on his 
right hand, when he is seated on his throne, must drink 
of the bitter cup which he drank of, and must be baptized 
with the bloody baptism with which he was baptized. 
The first disciples knew this, and therefore they were not 
only patient, but joyful in suffering, and were even apt to 
run into the extreme of courting danger. They did not 
count the tribulations of the gospel as trials, to which it 
was a painful duty to submit ; but they regarded them as 
honours, which it was no ordinary favour to win. 4 For 
unto you it is given, in the behalf of Christ, (says the 
apostle Paul,) not only to believe on him, but also (higher 
privilege still !) to suffer for his sake.' It is labour and 
fatigue which give to rest and repose their great value. In- 
deed we have no idea of rest where there has been no 
previous weariness or fatigue, and the harder the toil, or 
the more distressing the uneasiness, the sweeter is the rest 
which succeeds it. I have had little or no experience of 
bodily suffering, but I find it is these views of the glory 
that shall follow, which bear me up under the prospect 
of trials which sometimes burden me with not a little 
mental distress ; and I trust that these hurried remarks 
may not be altogether useless, in administering some little 
consolation to you under your lengthened afflictions. May 
14 



158 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

the Lord the Shepherd of Israel guide you ; and may his 
rod and his staff be your comfort, when you tread the dark 
valley ! Do not forget sometimes to pray for 

"Your very affectionate brother in the Lord Jesus." 

As the end of his last session at college drew nigh, he 
became increasingly anxious about his future sphere of 
labour. He addressed two letters to Dr. Morrison, with 
which the Doctor was much pleased, as appears from his 
answers ; and in the following letter to myself, he dis- 
closes all his mind, and intimates his final decision. 

"St. Andrew's, March 10, 1826. 
" My very Dear Sir — The end of our session is now 
at hand, and I begin to feel it necessary to determine on 
some settled plan to proceed upon afterwards. Mr. Adam 
and myself have made the subject of missions a matter 
of daily consideration this session ; and after deliberately 
viewing all sides of the question, and candidly compar- 
ing the claims of our home population and the heathen 
world, and earnestly seeking for direction from Him who has 
promised to be the guide of his people, even unto death, I 
have come to the final resolution of devoting myself to 
the service of God among the heathen. I have made the 
history of missions, and the biography of missionaries, 
a part of my daily study, for some time, and have perused, 
I think, nearly all the principal works on the subject. 
And I am glad I have done so ; for it has given me much 
sounder views of the matter than I had before. There is 
much in the distance of a foreign land, and the mystery 
that hangs over the operations that are carried on there ; 
and, above all, in the high and often extravagant eulogi- 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 159 

urns which the eloquent advocates of missions have caused 
us to associate with the very name of Missionary ; there 
is much, I say, in all this, to produce a false impression 
on the mind of a young disciple. I remember, when I 
first united myself to a Christian society, of being much 
disappointed to find, that Christians, though vastly differ- 
ent from the world, were still weak and imperfect crea- 
tures. And so, I had been accustomed to form such a 
lofty conception of the character of a missionary, that I 
have been almost disappointed to find, from their history, 
that they are men of like infirmities with other Christians ; 
and certainly, I have been a good deal depressed to find 
that many of them were far from possessing that saintly 
devotedness, and apostolic zeal, which my boyish imagina- 
tion had attributed to them. Indeed, I have to fear, that 
there was much of romance in my first thoughts of becom- 
ing a missionary ; a good deal of what Mr. Malan, in wri- 
ting to my friend Mr. Adam on the subject, calls ' un 
trait de rimagination.' But I trust the detail of facts, 
which have come under my review, has done much to 
dissipate this ; and has at the same time, impressed me 
more deeply than ever with the duty of engaging in this 
department of the ministerial work. The brilliant colour- 
ing of romance has faded from the picture ; but its out- 
lines seem even more strongly and broadly marked than 
before. I have not been discouraged by the suffer- 
ings of the missionary life ; they are borne for Christ's 
sake. And happy, indeed, are they, to whom it has been 
given on behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but 
also to suffer for his sake. Neither do I feel discouraged 
by the want of success ; the expectations of Christians on 
this subject appear to me very unreasonable. They put 



160 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

forth their little finger to remove a mountain, and are 
astonished that God does not work a miracle to reward 
their great exertions. But the promise of God stands 
sure ; and though it tarry, we will wait for it. One thing, 
I confess, has distressed me not a little ; it is the prospect 
of those temptations, before which so many have fallen ; 
but I know it is wrong to fear. The God that enables us 
to stand in the midst of smaller temptations is able, and 
has promised to be with us at all times. I see that 
unwavering faith in God's promises, and closeness of com- 
munion with him, are among the main requisites in the 
character of a missionary. And in these I feel that I am 
very deficient. 0, pray for me, my dear friend, that he 
who has wrought in me to will, may also fit me to per- 
form it. 

" I have had a letter from Dr. Morrison. He recom- 
mends an early application to the Society, and even talks 
of a very early entrance on the work itself. I trust I am 
ready to engage whenever the Lord will, but I think it is 
not a recoil from trial, which makes me suppose that pru- 
dence might demand my still remaining a considerable 
time in this country. I am not yet eighteen. After this 
session I shall have nothing to prevent my engagement in 
direct preparation for missionary work. I should like to 
know the state of the Society's arrangements. I was 
offered a very good situation some time ago, but was afraid 
it might, in some degree, interfere with my preparations 
for the work to which I am devoted. I have taught Dr. 
Chalmers's Sabbath-school for him this winter, as he is 
engaged otherwise. This has given me the opportunity 
of very familiar intercourse with the Doctor. I sup with 
him on Sunday evenings, and have a good deal of conver- 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 161 

sation with him on the subject of missions, &c. He tries 
to persuade me to stay in this country, but I do not think 
his arguments powerful. I have refused to accept of any 
situation that may occur to him at present, in the pros- 
pect of soon offering myself to the Society. On this 
account I shoujcl like you to write soon, if possible, 
whether the Society can receive applications this summer." 

As this letter contains his decision respecting the im- 
portant work which had so long occupied his attention, 
perhaps this is the proper place to introduce his conclud- 
ing address to the St. Andrew's Missionary Society, which 
was in a great measure the fruit of his own exertions, and 
which he had cherished with the fondest affection. That 
address, also, containing his matured views, will afford me 
the opportunity of making a few remarks on the subject, 
and on the opposition of his friends to his personal engage- 
ment in the work.* 

Very far be it from me to write a single sentence that 
might diminish the force, or detract from the earnestness 
of this energetic and eloquent appeal. 

On the Society to which it was read, it produced a most 
powerful effect ; and on their minutes, they have made the 
following entry of that impression : " Never probably, in 
any association, had such an address, on such a subject, 
been before delivered. To say that it was most eloquent, 
most solemn, most affecting, the production of a mind of 
mighty grasp ; sedulously and continuously directed to one 
single object of mightiest import, may convey to those 
who heard it not, some idea of the impression produced 
by it." 

* See Appendix K. 
14* 



162 MEMOIR'OF JOHN URQUHART. 

I trust it is destined to touch the hearts of many, whom 
the living voice of the author never could have reached. 
I envy not the understanding, or the feelings of that indi- 
vidual, who can read the address, without experiencing a 
higher emotion than that of admiration. It is impossible 
not to be struck with the deep earnestness of the advocate, 
the cogency of his reasoning, and the affection and sim- 
plicity of his manner. Here are "thoughts that breathe, 
and words that burn," on a subject the most momentous 
which can engage the mind of man. 

Were there any danger of this address producing a 
general rush into the missionary service, and a desertion 
of the service at home, it might be necessary to enter 
some exceptions to certain parts of it. But as long as the 
love of home and of ease, and various other considerations 
operate, there is little probability that we shall have to 
check the fervour of missionary zeal. Perhaps my young 
friend, however, a little exaggerates the low state of this 
principle, and represents the deficiency of missionary can- 
didates as greater than it really is. What is chiefly to be 
regretted, is, the paucity of well educated and gifted men 
for this work. By far the greater number of persons who 
volunteer their services, are young men of Christian prin- 
ciple, but whose early advantages have been comparatively 
few. In this respect, there has, indeed, been some pro- 
gress of late, but still there is much room for improve- 
ment. 

Without throwing any reflection on persons of humble 
life, and limited education, who wish to devote themselves 
to this work, I do conceive, that in many instances, the 
failure which has taken place in our foreign operations, 
may partly, at least, be traced to this source. When a 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 163 

young person, under examination, tells us, that the extent 
of his reading has been the Bible, Boston's Fourfold State, 
Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, and the Evangelical Maga- 
zine ; and that, from these and similar sources, with at- 
tending missionary services, he has derived all his know- 
ledge of the work in which he proposes to engage, it is 
obviously impossible, whatever dependence may be placed 
on his sincerity, to attach any confidence to his knowledge 
of the nature of the work. 

Such a person is perhaps accepted ; and, after passing 
through a hurried and imperfect education, is sent forth 
to some important and difficult situation abroad. There 
difficulties and trials assail him, for which he is altogether 
unprepared, and, after floundering and blundering a few 
years, becomes either dispirited or ensnared, and effects 
nothing. Perhaps he has been suddenly elevated to a 
class of society, in which he had not been accustomed to 
mingle, and from that circumstance, is exposed to danger, 
which would scarcely affect persons of another description. 
It ought not to be concealed, that missionaries labouring 
in certain situations among the heathen, enjoy advantages 
which are not possessed by their brethren in the ministry 
at home ; and this circumstance, if caution is not exercised, 
is in danger of producing great injury to our cause. 

As so much reference is made by John in his letters, to 
the opposition of his friends and others, to his desire to 
devote himself to the work of Christ among the heathen, 
I feel called upon to explain the nature and reasons of 
this opposition, which, I apprehend, he never properly 
understood. Not having opposed him myself, after I saw 
his mind was fully made up, my explanation may be received 
with the greater confidence. As the opposition was not 



164 MEMOIROF JOHN URQUHART. 

from worldly people, or from religious persons under the 
influence of worldly motives, the explanation is the more 
necessary. 

I believe then, that opposition arose entirely from two 
causes, the state of his constitution, and the character of 
his mind. All who knew him, feared that his bodily con- 
stitution would never bear the effects of a warm climate. 
Though liable to no particular complaint, he was delicate 
from a child, and incapable of enduring much fatigue or 
exposure. Of this his parents were most sensible, and 
hence their decided reluctance to allow him to go abroad. 
The event proved that their fears were too well grounded. 

Other friends connected his mental with his bodily con- 
stitution, and feared the labours of a missionary life would 
soon prove fatal. He possessed a highly morbid sensi- 
bility, which rendered him liable to exquisite sufferings, 
from circumstances that would not have greatly affected 
more robust and hardy individuals. He was formed for 
society, and was dependent upon it in a great degree, for 
his support and capability of acting. This is most strongly 
marked in many of his letters. In connection with this, 
the kind of talent which he possessed would have fitted 
him for eminent usefulness in this country; while his 
exquisite taste, and various other qualifications, would 
have been to a considerable extent, lost in a foreign coun- 
try. I am not disposed to underrate the talents neces- 
sary for foreign missionary labour, or to exaggerate the 
importance of our own, yet I freely acknowledge that I 
am one of the number, who would have rejoiced that John 
Urquhart had laboured at home, rather than have gone 
abroad. 

It was too delicate a matter to press these reasons upon 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 165 

him; but I am sure they are the only reasons which 
weighed with Dr. Chalmers, Mr. Ewing, and various other 
individuals, from whom he considered himself as experi- 
encing more opposition than he had been prepared to 
expect. It is every day becoming more evident that men 
of a high order of talent in the Christian ministry, are 
required in this country. The successful prosecution of 
the work abroad, renders this no less necessary, than the 
nature of the work at home ; and it would augur ill for 
the cause of Christ generally, were such gifted individuals 
all disposed to forsake our own shores. Of this, however, 
there is no great reason to entertain much fear. 

I cannot, perhaps, better conclude the account of his 
progress during this last session at St. Andrew's, than by 
giving at length several documents with which I have been 
furnished. It is always more satisfactory to report the 
evidence of eye and intimate witnesses, than to indulge 
in general and hypothetical reasonings ; and I have found 
it a very peculiar advantage in conducting this narrative, 
that in almost every step of the religious life of this inter- 
esting youth, I can adduce the evidence of those who were 
so closely connected with him, that they had the best 
opportunities of judging ; and who were, at the same time, 
well qualified to form a judgment of him. His friend, Mr. 
Duff, writes as follows : — 

" In the session ^>f 1825 - 6 his growth in spirituality 
was quite extraordinary. Literature and science now 
dwindled, in his view, into comparative insignificancy; 
they no longer occupied the greatest portion of his time ; 
they no longer possessed exclusive charms ; it was suffi- 
cient for casting them into the shade, that of them it might 
be asserted, as of the earthquake and the fire of Elijah, 



166 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHAKT. 

'that the Lord was not there.' He, no doubt, this session, 
gained the third prize in the Natural Philosophy class, 
which from the highly scientific nature of the course, is 
generally reckoned no ordinary attainment ; but this he 
owed entirely to his real superiority of intellect, as it was 
gained without labour, without effort, without much pre- 
paration. Indeed he could not bear the thought of spend- 
ing much time on what appeared to him to be but of 
secondary importance. Christianity now became the 
constant subject of his meditation, the cause of Christ the 
constant theme of his discourse. How to be useful to the 
souls of men, how to promote the glory and honour of his 
Redeemer, attracted all his thoughts, and formed the 
object of his fondest desires. He seemed full of the spirit 
of the reformer, proclaiming, in all his words and actions, 
'None but Christ; none but Christ/ M 

Besides the prize in the Natural Philosophy class, 
referred to by Mr. Duff, he gained a prize in the Hebrew, 
Chaldaic, and Syriac class, "as a testimony," says Pro- 
fessor Baird, " of my high approbation of his correct and 
exemplary conduct, and of the many proofs of excellent 
talents and distinguished proficiency which he exhibited 
while attending that class." 

I should also mention that he attended the Natural 
History class during the session ; and, from some drawings 
and papers which remain, it is evident that he had made 
considerable progress in botany. With mineralogy and 
chemistry he was also well acquainted. The testimony he 
received from the Lecturer on Natural History is entitled 
to a place : — 



MEMOIR OP JOHN URQUHART. 167 

" St. Andrew's, April 29, 1826. . 
" Mr. John Urquhart was enrolled a student of Natural 
History in the United Colleges of St. Salv. and St. Leon, 
at the commencement of the session now closed ; and, from 
the unremitted regularity of his attendance, the interest 
he took in the course, and the intelligence of his conver- 
sations on the subject, I have every reason to believe, that, 
had there been public examinations, he would have been as 
eminent in the Natural History as he has been in every 
class of the United College. 

"John Macvicar, 
" Col. Lect. Nat. His." 

From another of his fellow-students, and indeed his fel- 
low-lodger, Mr. Alexander, I received the following very 
ample view of his character and talents. The writer, I 
have reason to know, is well entitled to pronounce his 
judgment ; and all that he says, is at once most correct, 
as well as judicious : — 

" My acquaintance with John Urquhart commenced in 
the year 1823 ; but it was not till the summer of 1825 that 
we became very intimate. When I knew him first he 
appeared to possess a great flow of spirits, which showed 
itself more in a perpetual cheerfulness and hilarity, than 
in any fondness for boisterous mirth. This he seemed 
still to retain, as far as I could judge, as long as I had an 
opportunity of conversing with him. Occasionally, how- 
ever, this gave way to excessive depression, with which 
sometimes he was dreadfully distressed. During these 
seasons he was often visited with thoughts, which to his 
mind, were peculiarly discouraging and terrific ; such as 



168 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

doubts of his being a child of God, a fear of losing his 
senses ; and many other equally unpleasant ideas. I have 
not the least doubt, however, that all these arose from 
physical causes, and were prognostications of that disease 
by which his years on earth were brought to a close. 

" In November, 1825, it was my lot to come to St. 
Andrew's to study ; and I had the happiness to find 
myself lodged under the same roof with John Urquhart. 
Many a happy and delightful hour have we spent together 
in this room wherein I now sit, — the memory of which is 
still upon my mind, and it is sweet. Never has it been 
my lot to meet with one of so sweet and amiable a dispo- 
sition. Contented with whatever he received, I never 
heard him utter an angry word, or saw him wear a menace 
on his placid countenance. He was regular in all his 
habits, kind and affectionate in all his conversation with 
those around him ; and the estimation in which he was 
held by those with whom he lodged, was best testified by 
the heartfelt grief and honest tears with which they 
received the intelligence of his death. His landlady, for 
some weeks after, wore mourning, in token of respect for 
his character and memory. 

" His piety was simple and unaffected ; and, at the same 
time, truly evangelical. Deeply sensible of his own un- 
worthiness and guilt, he was humbled before God, and 
was enabled to lay hold upon him who is the Saviour from 
all sin. Convinced by his numerous short-comings that 
he had not yet arrived at perfection, he was taught to 
cling closer to his Redeemer, and trust in him alone. He 
was distinguished by a godly, jealous care over his own 
heart ; and was watchful against temptation. Many a 
time did he deny himself the indulgence of pleasures of 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 109 

which he was naturally fond, just because they might 
stand in the way of his soul's good. In prayer, he pecu- 
liarly excelled. How earnest were his supplications, and 
how experimental his confessions, every one who has ever 
heard him can testify. His whole soul seemed to be 
engaged ; and the energy of his expression sufficiently 
testified, that what he asked, was what he indeed knew 
and felt himself to want. 

" His zeal for doing good was very great. You, sir, 
already know with what eagerness he sacrificed every 
prospect of worldly advantage for the arduous and labor- 
ious office of a foreign missionary. This was the darling 
desire of his heart ; and, for the attainment of this object, 
he earnestly and unceasingly prayed. Every work upon 
Christian missions, every article of missionary intelligence, 
he anxiously and eagerly perused. He had pondered well 
all that he might expect to endure ; he had looked upon 
all the dangers and difficulties which lay before him ; but 
his desire was not weakened, and his confidence in the 
promises of Jehovah was unshaken. So firm was his 
determination, that he actually commenced the study of 
Chinese, and spent many an hour of hard study on its 
recondite symbols. I do not know whether he continued 
to prosecute this study : I rather think not ; as he seemed 
latterly to have directed his attention more to India than 
to China. 

" But he did not content himself with a mere desire to 
do good, and with forming plans for future usefulness ; he 
was also busy in doing what he could for those around 
him. He was much occupied with Sabbath-schools, and 
took great delight in communicating instruction to the 
children by whom they were attended. It was his practice 
15 



170 MEMOIR OF JOHN TJRQUIIART. 

to make them read a chapter, which he explained to them, 
and questioned them from it. All these questions he 
previously wrote down and studied, in order that they might 
be as simple and easy as possible. Indeed, he possessed 
a peculiar talent for speaking to children, and never 
failed to secure their attention. The simplicity of his 
addresses to them may be evinced by the surprise w T hich 
some of his youthful hearers once expressed, that they 
should have been able to recollect all that he had said. 
Nor was he contented with merely speaking to the children 
on the Sabbath ; he made it a point to visit them regu- 
larly in their own houses, and to converse with them and 
their relations there. By these means he secured the 
confidence of the parents as well as the affection of the 
children, and was often enabled to speak a word in season 
to those with whom he met. 

" To visit the sick and the infirm was another favourite 
occupation of my dear brother ; to every call of this kind 
he was ready ; and many a time have I known him leave 
his studies to visit the bed-side of some humble sufferer. 
On these occasions his conversation was always of a spi- 
ritual nature, and it was always his anxious endeavour to 
direct the mind of the sufferer away from every earthly 
confidence, unto the ' Lamb of God, who taketh away the 
sins of the world.' Sometimes in these visits of love, he 
was kindly received, sometimes he had to endure the sus- 
picion of having some sinister motive by w T hich he was 
actuated ; sometimes he met with intelligence and atten- 
tion, and sometimes with ignorance and carelessness ; but 
whatever reception he met with, he never failed to repeat 
his visits : so strong was his desire for the welfare and 
salvation of his fellow men. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 171 

" But, while he was thus attentive to the duties of reli- 
gion, he was not negligent of those studies for which he 
had come to this place. On the contrary, I believe there 
were few of his cotemporaries who studied more closely 
than he did: certainly, none more successfully. In only 
one class did he fail to distinguish himself ; viz. the Logic 
Class ; but this I am inclined to impute, not so much to 
any want of ability, as to a distaste for the dull and barren 
speculations with which the Professor of Logic treats his 
students. His splendid appearance in the Ethical Class, 
the year following, proved what he could do ; and it was 
certainly no small achievement to stand first in two sepa- 
rate competitions in a class, perhaps the most numerous 
and able that ever attended the prelections of a St. An- 
drew's Ethical Professor. As far as I could judge, his 
talent lay chiefly in a facility of acquiring languages ; 
and in the elegance, both of thought and expression, by 
which his compositions were distinguished. There were 
several of his cotemporaries who took a much firmer and 
profounder grasp of a subject ; but there were few, if any, 
who could think so clearly, and express themselves with 
such perspicuity and elegance, as he was able to do. Con- 
trary to what may be inferred from the ease and beauty 
of his style, his habits of composition were very labori- 
ous. Beginning from a rude and imperfect sketch, he, 
by degrees, filled up the parts and extended the outline. 
He scarcely wrote a sentence which did not cost him some 
labour ; and, consequently, composition was to him a most 
fatiguing, and, I may say, irksome exercise. He always 
set himself to it with reluctance ; and, indeed, it was only 
by the calls of duty that he could be prevailed upon to 
take up his pen on any subject. I have not seen all his 



172 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

compositions ; but the best that I have seen are a series 
of papers on the St. Andrew's Missionary Society, printed 
in the ' St. Andrew's University Magazine/ a little work 
conducted by some of his friends during last session ; and 
an essay on the duty of personally engaging in the work 
of missions, read before the St. Andrew's Students' Mis- 
sionary Society ; of which he was always a distinguished 
friend and supporter." 

These testimonies are peculiarly pleasant and satisfac- 
tory, not only as the expressions of Christian and personal 
friendship, but as bearing evidence to his holy and exem- 
plary conduct. In him, religion did not appear as a pro- 
fession, — it dwelt in him, as life, — it attached itself to 
him as clothing. It was not a holiday, but an every day 
garb, and was worn with the ease of a natural habit, — 
not the stiffness of an assumed or foreign dress. There 
is one testimony more which I cannot withhold, though 
the name of the respected individual who bears it, has 
been already repeatedly introduced. No one could know 
him better than Dr. Chalmers ; and no man was more 
capable of estimating his intellectual and spiritual attain- 
ments. The following document presented to John, on 
leaving the University, does great honour to the heart of 
the Professor, as well as to the talents of the student. 

" St. Andrew's, April 28, 1826. 
" These are to certify, that Mr. John Urquhart was 
enrolled a regular student of Moral Philosophy in the Uni- 
ted College of St. Andrew's, for the session of 1825-6 ; 
that he distinguished himself highly by his appearances 
while under examination, and was far the most eminent 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 173 

of his class, for the beauty and eloquence of his written 
compositions ; that he possesses a very uncommon degree 
of taste and talent for the disquisitions of ethical science ; 
and that altogether, he, as the fruit of great diligence, 
united with great powers, achieved the credit of being a 
first rate proficient in the lessons and doctrines of the 
course. 

" Thomas Chalmers." 

" Mr. Urquhart gained two prizes in this class ; one, 
the first prize, for an essay on ' The Mutual Influences 
and Affinities, which obtain between the Moral and Eco- 
nomic Condition of Society.' Another, the first prize for 
essays read in the class during the session.' ' 

Perhaps, to some readers, it may occur to ask, did the 
individual who was so successful in all his academical pur- 
suits, take a degree at St. Andrew's ? It appears he did 
not. If this should excite surprise, I can say in explana- 
tion, that multitudes of the best scholars at the Scottish 
Universities never trouble themselves about the matter; 
and many of those who take the degree of A. M., never 
use it. But as I know John was recommended to take a 
degree, I can account for his neglecting to follow the 
advice, only by referring his conduct to that instinctive 
and powerful aversion to human praise, by which he was 
remarkably distinguished. One of his fellow students, 
who knew him well, and whose testimony I have not yet 
quoted, calls my attention to this feature of his character ; 
what he calls, "his total indifference to human approba- 
tion. The loudest applause of his instructors and fellow 
students did not seem to tell on his feelings at all. Had 
15* 



174 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

he been susceptible of pleasure from any distinction con- 
ferred, it must have shown, when he was singled out, and 
eminently honoured, by such a man as Dr. Chalmers. 
Yet, even in this case, he was unmoved. His mind hardly 
appeared to have a thought for anything, save the good 
opinion of Him who trieth the reins and hearts of the 
children of men. He arrived at this heavenly-minded- 
ness, not, I am sure, by any process of acute investigation 
into the philosophy of our feelings, but simply by ever 
exercising his affections on those things which are unseen 
and eternal. His indifference was not the misanthropic 
stoicism of the philosopher, but the perfect liberty of the 
Christian/ ' 

Whether I am correct, or not, in assigning this reason 
for his declining to take his degree at the University, the 
reader, I am sure, will rejoice with me in the evidence of 
the existence of such a state of mind as that which this 
extract describes. It is in full accordance with other tes- 
timonies, and with all my own convictions. Genuine 
Christianity does not teach us to despise the approbation 
of others, or undervalue any useful attainment which may 
be the object of that approbation. But when it obtains 
full possession of the mind, it, in a great degree, dislodges 
those secondary motives and considerations, which con- 
stitute the great principles of action in the men of the 
world. It does not produce meanness or servility ; but it 
produces lowliness of mind. It not only inculcates a spi- 
rit of self-distrust and diffidence, and indifference to hu- 
man glory ; but in its very nature induces these disposi- 
tions. The individual who feels the charm and the power 
of a Saviour's love, and who attaches to his approbation 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 175 

all that constitutes the glory of future hope, will not be 
much concerned for the honours or the applause of this 
world. Into these views and feelings few have entered 
more fully and even enthusiastically than the subject of 
these memoirs. All his letters are illustrative of this state 
of mind ; and his whole conduct was a living commentary 
on his letters. 



176 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 



CHAPTER V. 

Letter to his Mother in reference to his becoming a Tutor in a family 
of high respectability — Letter to Herbert Smith, Esq. — Extracts 
from his Journal — Letter to Mr. Craik — Letter — Extracts from his 
Journal — Letter to Mr. Trail — Letter to his Sister — Letters — 
Extracts from various letters to Mr. Scott Moncrieff — Letter to his 
friend C. — Letter to Mr. Herbert Smith — Letter to the Rev. John 
Burnett — Letter to Mr. Adam — Letter to Mr. Orme — Letter — 
Letters to his Sister — Letter to Mr. Trail — Letter to Mr. Adam 
— Letter to his afflicted friend — Letter to Mr. Trail. 

Previously to John's leaving St. Andrew's, a negotia- 
tion had been carried on, through Dr. Chalmers, with a 
family of the highest respectability, in which a tutor was 
required for an only son. It was finally agreed that he 
should occupy this situation soon after the close of his 
College course. This arrangement arose, not out of any 
change in his mind respecting the work of the gospel, but 
was acceded to, with a view to satisfy his friends, and 
finally to gain their consent to his becoming a missionary; 
and also, in the expectation of being able to promote his 
own improvement by retirement and study. The follow- 
ing extract from a letter to his mother, will explain his 
motives, the state of his mind, and a few other particulars: 

"St. Andrew's, April 15, 1826. 
" My Dear Mother — I am afraid I have kept you in 
suspense regarding my plans. I have been waiting in 
daily expectation of hearing something more definite re- 
specting the situation I wrote about. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 177 

" Before T heard of this situation at all, I wrote to Mr. 
Orme, asking his advice how I ought to proceed after thi3 
session, telling him my views regarding missions, and par- 
ticularly wishing to know the state of the Missionary 
Society's arrangements. I received his answer, and my 
father's last letter by the same post. His advice was to 
write to Mr. Arundel, making application to the Society. 
You know this was the plan I had purposed to myself, and 
you may guess that I was in no small perplexity how to 
act. The prospect of benefitting by classes at Glasgow, 
my extreme youth and inexperience, and, above all, the 
wish to show my dear parents that I am willing to acquiesce 
in their wishes as far as conscience will permit, have in- 
duced me to accept of this situation. I hope the Lord has 
been my guide in this matter. 

"Accordingly I communicated my willingness to avail 
myself of his kindness, to Dr. Chalmers, who wrote to 
Lord Rosslyn immediately. A letter has come from Lord 
Rosslyn to Dr. Chalmers, this morning, enclosing a letter 

from Colonel M to his lordship, giving some more 

information respecting the place. Nothing is said about 
the salary. I do not expect it will be great, as my charge 
will be very small, and I am to have the liberty of attend- 
ing classes. 

" I told Dr. Chalmers distinctly to state to Lord Rosslyn 
that I am a Dissenter, and that if I am near Glasgow, I 
should like to attend Dr. Wardlaw, or Mr. Ewing. Per- 
haps this may be an objection to my settling in the family; 
if so, it is better that it be stated now, than afterwards." 

Previously to his joining the family, then on a visit at 
Lord Rosslyn's, at Dysart House, he proposed a short 



178 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

missionary tour in the Highlands, along with his friend 
Mr. Adam ; but he was taken ill in his father's house, and 
rendered incapable of any exertion for some weeks. While 
convalescent he wrote a long letter to an old fellow-student, 
between whom and himself there appears to have subsisted 
a very endeared friendship. I mean Herbert Smith, Esq., 
of Egham, Surrey. The testimony of that gentleman, to 
the amiable, and Christian character of my beloved friend, 
and to his high intellectual attainments, corresponds with 
that of all his other associates. To him John gives an 
account of some of the plans which had been prosecuted 
at St. Andrew's, during the preceding winter. In this 
respect it is particularly interesting, and also for the refer- 
ence to the simultaneous movements in the Universities. 

" Perth, May 11, 1826. 
" My very Dear Friend — I was just going to pro- 
ceed with an account of the St. Andrew's University Mis- 
sionary Society, (in which you have always taken so deep 
an interest,) when I was compelled to leave off, through 
weakness. To resume the subject then — at our first 
meeting we had not a very large attendance : we presented 
the different presents of books which had been received 
from yourself, Dr. Morrison, Mr. Townley, and other 
friends of the missionary cause. I then read to the So- 
ciety that part of your very interesting letter, which 
directly referred to our association ; and, I trust, we have 
profited by the hints it contained. Votes of thanks were 
ordered to be transferred to those liberal donors who had 
made such valuable additions to its library. I took the 
responsibility of communicating to you this expression of 
the Society's gratitude. I am ashamed to think that it 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 179 

has not been communicated long, long ere now. I cannot 
go minutely into details. Suffice it to say, that the Society 
has prospered even more than in the former session. We 
were kindly permitted to meet in the old Episcopalian 
chapel. Dr. Haldane at once accepted the patronage of 
the Society, and offered any room in St. Mary's we might 
think convenient, as a place of meeting. One thing I 
think exceedingly interesting, is, that similar societies 
have now been formed in all the Universities of Scotland, 
and a kind of simultaneous movement was made this last 
session, towards a system of general correspondence. 
Might we hope that this could be extended to institutions 
of a similar nature, in the Universities of England ? In a 
letter from the Society in the Glasgow University, they 
mentioned that they had had some correspondence with a 
Missionary Association in one of the Colleges of America. 
It were very desirable (and I think it is not impracticable) 
to see all the pious young men in our great seminaries of 
learning, united to each other by this great bond of Chris- 
tian philanthropy. Perhaps you could do something by 
opening a channel of correspondence between some of the 
Colleges in Cambridge, and the Scottish Universities. I 
expect to spend next winter in Glasgow. I could com- 
municate anything from you on this subject, to the Asso- 
ciation there, and it would immediately be circulated 
among the sister Universities. 

" 15th. There is a new system of religious instruction 
which has been attempted in St. Andrew's this last session, 
and which I think is a most efficient system for evangel- 
izing large towns. The plan is very simple. We just 
inquired after some persons residing in different quarters 
of the town, who were religiously disposed. We called 



180 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

on these, and requested the favour of a room in their 
house, for a few of the neighbours to assemble in for 
religious purposes. We expected a little group of eight 
or ten persons to assemble, but were astonished to find the 
attendance increase in some of the stations to fifty or 
sixty. Many of these never went to church. We gene- 
rally read and explained a passage of Scripture, and read 
some extracts from such books as we thought were most 
striking and useful. I have some doubt whether a lay- 
man in the Church of England could attempt this ; but if 
the laws of the church and the state allow, I think many 
a Christian would find ample scope for such employment, 
in the dark places of your towns and villages. You under- 
derstand, we never called it preaching ; and accordingly 
Dr. Haldane gave his consent that the young men in the 
Established Church should engage in the work. Church- 
men and Dissenters all went hand in hand, and we for- 
got that there was any distinction. And this must be the 
case more universally, ere the cause of our great Redeemer 
can go triumphantly forward. Tait has already begun simi- 
lar meetings in Edinburgh, and some have been commenced 
here. I do think this a most plausible method for getting 
at that class of the community who do not attend the public 
services of the gospel. You know Dr. Chalmers's plan is 
a little different. He wishes the Christian philanthropist 
jto visit every family. The great objection to this plan, 
in my estimation, is the difficulty of finding a sufficient 
number of agents. The Doctor's objection to pulpit in- 
structions, when they stand alone, is, that you are setting 
up a centre of attraction ; this will only draw some of the 
people, some are not under the influence of the attracting 
power, and they must be dealt with in another way. You 



MEMOIR. OF JOHN URQUHART. 181 

must make an aggressive movement towards them. Before 
setting the plan I speak of in operation, I asked Dr. Chal- 
mers's opinion of it. He gave his decided approbation to 
it, although he thought the system of individual visitation 
a better one, if it could be accomplished. This new plan, 
however, he thought had a much greater efficacy than 
common preaching, when alone. Instead of setting up 
one great centre of attraction ; it was like carrying about 
the magnet, and bringing it near to the iron filings. 

" P. S. I am not sure where I may be this summer, but 
a letter addressed to my father's care, will always find 
me. I could have written a great deal more, but my writ- 
ing is so bad that I fear when written across, it is quite 
unintelligible. I wish I had taken a larger sheet." 

From this time I shall do little more than make John 
his own biographer ; a journal which he began to keep 
more regularly and fully than formerly, and a large mass 
of letters, will enable me to maintain a tolerably connected 
narrative, without interposing many remarks of my own. 
To enable the reader to form some idea of his journal, I 
shall give the first part of it almost entire, afterwards I 
shall intersperse a few extracts from it, with his corres- 
pondence. As he lived for the most part very retired, no 
extraordinary incidents can be expected ; but his steady 
and rapid advancement towards the heavenly glory is 
strongly marked. 

"Pysart House, June 3, 1826. 

" My journal has now been at a stand for nearly a 
month, and I think I have experienced the bad effects of 
16 



182 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

neglecting it. Hitherto it has been exclusively, or nearly 
exclusively, literary ; and, even in that point of view, ex- 
tremely meagre, a mere catalogue of the number of pages 
read and written. May I not, with advantage, extend my 
plan ? I think I have profited in my studies, from taking 
daily account of my progress. Might not this hold equally 
in regard to other engagements ? I have strong objections 
to the writing down of religious experiences. Perhaps I 
am wrong in this. My strongest objection is the fear that 
these papers may meet the eye of another, and that this 
consideration might influence me in writing. This might 
prove a great source of delusion to my own soul. But 
still, perhaps, I am wrong. The conduct of the most emi- 
nent servants of Christ is a strong plea in favour of such 
journals. I am much pleased with the plan of my dear 
Henry Craik on this matter. I shall attempt something 
on his system. If I fail, it matters not. I must just 
relapse into my old brief summary. But to begin. What 
have I done last month ? Left St. Andrew's in the end 
of April. Spent a fortnight at home with my relations, 
and my dear John Adam. Unwell nearly all the time, 
and prevented by illness from an intended missionary ex- 
pedition to the Highlands. Came here about the middle 
of May. Felt the dreariness of having no Christian 
society. Favoured with an introduction to some of the 
' excellent of the earth/ Captain Barclay, Mr. Thompson, 
&c. I have studied very little since I came here, have 
felt unsettled. This is quite wrong. We should ever be 
ready for duty, and it is our own fault, if, in all circum- 
stances, we do not find abundance to occupy our time. 

" 4:th. Sunday evening. — Read one chapter of the Greek 
Testament. Found my pupil rather backward in his 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART.' 183 

attendance on my religious instructions. Anything con- 
nected with the service of the English Church is most 
relished by the family. Even the Scriptures seem most 
acceptable when I propose reading the lessons for the day. 
It is right to humour these prejudices, in imitation of him 
who became ' all things to all men.' I have heard two 
very excellent discourses from Mr. Thomas and Mr, 
Aikenhead, respectively. Visited a Sabbath-school, and 
addressed the children. I have some fear, that these in- 
stitutions are not, in all cases, productive of the good that 
might be expected, for want of more efficient modes of 
teaching. Committing to memory what they do not under- 
stand, can profit the children very little. My second pro- 
posal, for holding family worship with the servants, has been 
received with coolness, but not absolutely negatived. The 
Lord will open up ways of usefulness forme. Read ninety 
pages of the Rev. Thomas Scott's Life, exceedingly in- 
teresting. 

" 5th. A very idle day. I find I cannot study to advan- 
tage without a plan. I shall lay it down as a maxim, how- 
ever short time I may stay in any place, to have my hours 
allotted specifically to different engagements as far as such 
an arrangement may be practicable. For want of this, I 
have lost much of the time I have spent at Dysart. At- 
tended a missionary prayer meeting this evening, but was 
in a very cold and careless frame of mind. I have felt for 
some days, as if a veil were drawn over the things of an- 
other world. I fear I am indulging habits of sloth and 
luxury. In what am I denying myself? Read twenty 
pages of Scott's Life. Was rather astonished at his idea, 
(expressed in the narrative after his conversion,) that even 
when a Socinian, his prayers were ' spiritual enough' to 



181 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

find acceptance with God. Can a prayer be listened to 
by God, which is presumptuously offered up without any 
regard to the Mediator whom he has appointed? When 
searching after the truth, Scott read none but religious 
books for three years. Afterwards he returned to general 
reading, and even felt a pleasure in perusing the classics, 
and other works of taste. I have read since I came, four 
hundred pages of Godwin's History of the Commonwealth. 
He advocates the cause of the Puritans in their political 
conduct. He dislikes the pompous and persecuting spirit 
of the prelacy. He seems to like Presbyterianism worse, 
(as it then existed,) as having all the intolerance of Epis- 
copacy, without its splendor. And he gives unqualified 
praise to the Independents of these times, as the great 
champions of unrestrained liberty, civil and religious. 

" Qth. With my pupil three hours in the forenoon. One 
hour walking, and one hour bathing. This runs away 
with a great part of the day. I am much pleased with 
my pupil at present. His disposition is amiable, and his 
faculties acute. His desire for knowledge is very great. 
He has been amusing himself to-night in making a uni- 
verse with little balls of wax stuck upon pins. I feel very 
thankful for a situation, in many respects, so agreeable as 
the one I occupy. But I feel I am doing little actual ser- 
vice to the cause of my Lord. Read thirty pages of 
Scott's Life. His prayers for his relations were eminently 
answered. I have felt this an encouragement to greater 
fervency in prayer for those who are so dear to me accord- 
ing to the flesh. And yet, the fact that I derive encour- 
agement from this instance of an answer to prayer, is a 
proof of the weakness of my faith on the promises of God. 
If I sufficiently believed them, I should not need particu- 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 185 

lar instances of their fulfilment, to encourage me. Can 
anything be surer than the promise of God ? Finished the 
first volume of Godwin's Commonwealth. Very little con- 
versation, and that exceedingly trifling and general. What 
can I do, in my present circumstances, for the good of this 
family ? The Lord direct me ! Read two chapters of the 
Greek Testament. Bed at eleven o'clock. 

" 8th. Yesterday I was so fatigued, that I wrote none 
in my journal ; and to-night I have a much better excuse 
for putting it off, in a very painful headache ; but I must 
cultivate habits of regularity, and write something, how- 
ever short. Yesterday, I completed my eighteenth year. 
Hitherto hath the Lord brought me ; and, in spite of much 
wickedness and ingratitude, he continues to bless me. 
How little have I done ! Hitherto I have made my youth 
an excuse for much inactivity ! Will this be an excuse at 
the bar of God ? I have been much troubled these some 
days, with abominably sinful thoughts. Lord, cleanse 
thou me from secret faults ; and keep back thy servant 
from presumptuous sins. Read part of Scott's Life. — 
Much struck with his remarks on practical preaching, and 
the unpopularity to which his own system exposed him." 

" Tennoch Side, near Glasgow. 
"14cth. Arrived here night before last. — My journal 
was neglected yesterday, in consequence of my papers 
being mislaid. — Left Dysart on Saturday morning, and 
arrived in Leith a few hours after, where I stayed till 
Monday afternoon. — A- very unprofitable visit. — Some 
conversations with my kind and respected friends, Mr. 
and Mrs. Alexander, I remember with pleasure, but 
scarcely anything else of my friends, whom I had an 
16* 



186 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

opportunity of seeing. I feel very comfortable here, and 
have much to make me thankful to the great Father of 
our mercies. Although I am disappointed in one great 
object, (attendance on classes in Glasgow), which I had in 
view on coming here, yet I trust the Lord has directed 
me. May I be enabled, faithfully, to fulfil the important 
duties of my station, and to devote every moment of my 
time to the service of my God! — Read Shakspeare's 
Midsummer Night's Dream. — Never read a whole play 
of this great poet before. Some exquisitely fine passages ; 
and, throughout, the whole admirably true to nature. But 
how much that is revolting, even to a mind so partially 
sanctified as mine ! Can it be right in a Christian to 
travel over pages filled with vain imaginations, swearing, 
and often gross obscenity, in order to arrive at some beau- 
tiful passage, which, after all, can only gratify or improve 
his taste ? The pearls are indeed fine, and present a great 
temptation ; but, after all, they are not worth the diving 
for, or at least, the ocean that covers them is too perilous 
to be needlessly encountered by so feeble an adventurer 
as I. Read two chapters in the Greek Testament. What 
a blessing that we have sublimer and purer joys than those 
that are afforded by the bright, but transient flashes of 
unsanctified wit, or the glare of a powerful, yet polluted 
imagination ! 

"Thursday. — Rose at six — read one chapter of the 
Greek Testament. I am engaged with my pupil four hours 
a day, viz. from seven to eight, and from ten to eleven, 
A. M. ; and from one to two, and from five to six, P. M. 
My books are yet in Glasgow, and this has been an excuse 
for idleness. Read another play of Shakspeare's. More 
to disgust, and less to gratify in this, than in the last. I 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 187 

cannot read these plays without being injured by them. 
"Wrote a letter to my dear Nesbit. Received one from my 
dear father. Have sat a considerable time this evening 
trying to make verses. Succeeded in manufacturing one 
stanza. I may say with the Rev. Thomas Scott, t God 
has not made me a poet.' And I hope I shall profit from 
his observation, that he was thankful for never having 
attempted to make himself one. 

"I almost despair of being able to introduce profitable 
conversation. How difficult to fix that precise line of 
duty, which timorous indecision dares not approach, and 
which rash, unthinking zeal is sure to overstep !" 

" Texxoch Side, June 30, 1826. 
"My very Dear Craik — This is a solitary place. I 
am all alone. The sweets of friendship, and the joys of 
Christian fellowship, are to me now associated with the 
remembrance of the days that are gone. But yet, I am 
not alone ; God is here. And should duty ' command me 
to the furthest verge of the green earth, to distant, bar- 
barous shores,' He is there too. The ' communion of the 
saints,' is, indeed, a delightful privilege ; but what is it, when 
compared with that far higher privilege, which change of 
circumstances cannot affect ; even that ' fellowship which 
is with the Father, and with his Son, Jesus Christ.' 
Every shifting scene of life that passes before me, con- 
vinces me more and more, that happiness has a very slight 
dependence on our external circumstances. They may 
add to it, or diminish it ; but they can neither give it, nor 
take it away. Mere animal gratification is enjoyed nearly 
equally by all classes ; all are equally subject to disease, 
and if the rich seem to enjoy more of the good things of 



188 MEMOIK OF JOHN URQUHART. 

this life than others, they only seem to do so. Luxury 
has deprived them of the comforts of life, and has con- 
verted its superfluities into comfortless necessaries. Even 
intellectual happiness, I believe to be more generally and 
equally diffused, than is commonly imagined. But the 
truth is, there is no true happiness without the enjoyment 
of God's favour. How true is it, that ' Ms favour is life ; 9 
for without it, life deserves not the name ; it is but a living 
death. ' Immo vero, ii vivunt, qui ex corporum vinculls 
tanquam e carcere, evolaverunt ; nostra vero quse dieitur 
vita, mors est.' We are more highly favoured than the 
ancient philosopher who wrote these words. Even here 
we may have glimpses of the celestial happiness. Eternal 
life is begun on earth. It is true, we may not walk in the 
freedom of spiritual enlargement, till we have put off these 
vile bodies ; but even within their prison-house there may 
be many an alleviation of our sufferings ; we may be freed 
from those fetters that galled us sore, and deprived us 
even of the little freedom which the bounds of a prison- 
house might permit. We may be gaining new victories 
over the devil, the world, and the flesh, even while here. 
Let it be our earnest endeavour to maintain this holy war- 
fare within our breasts ; and while we drink freely of the 
fountain of life, let us not forget to present its vivifying 
waters to that world, which is ' dead in trespasses and 
sins.' 

" I have been looking over what I have written, and 
find it is not like a letter at all. But I need make no 
apologies to you. I am here, nearly eight miles from 
Glasgow, and have been there only twice. My pupil went 
there yesterday with the family ; and, as there was room 
for me in the carriage, I went in the morning, and 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 189 

returned in the evening. Of course, I had not much 
time to see the town. I looked into the area of the col- 
lege ; a fine old, substantial building. Their library, which 
was the only room I went into, does not seem to be as fine 
as ours. Ours ! did I say ? But you know what I mean. 
The cathedral is a venerable building, though somewhat 
disfigured by modern additions. The statue of our revered 
Knox stands on a neighbouring hill. Glasgow is blessed 
with evangelical ministers in all denominations. There is 
an institution I visited last night, with the plan of which 
I was very much pleased. It is a sort of religious coffee- 
room. There is a large hall, where about twenty differ- 
ent religious institutions hold their meetings ; and a read- 
ing room below, where the Reports and other periodical 
publications, connected with all the religious societies of 
the day, are to be found. A book lay on the table, for 
the insertion of hints, or inquiries on any subject con- 
nected with the great interests of Christianity. In this 
I found some remarks in the hand- writing of ' our excel- 
lent Chalmers.' I have had an introduction to the nearest 
parish minister ; but have seen very little of him yet. He 
told me that his church was much too small for the parish, 
— and that he believed the greater number of his parish- 
ioners were growing up like heathens" 

" Tennoch Side, July 5, 1826. 
"My very Dear Friend — I begin to feel anxious to 
hear from some of you, although I believe the agreement 
was, that I should write first. I am here as much shut 
out from the world, at least, from what was the world to 
me, as I could be in the deserts of Africa, or the islands 
of Japan. I write, chiefly to beg you to send me a long 



190 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

letter, — it is all of friendship I can now enjoy. You will 
not expect much from this wilderness. I have little to 
write about that can interest you. But why should I say 
so, when there is a theme, which is ever delightful to the 
mind of a Christian, and needs not novelty to give it 
interest. Yes, we have a joy which the world knows not, 
and which no changes in our earthly circumstances can at 
all impair. The dearest earthly friends may be removed 
from us, but there is a ' friend that sticketh closer than a 
brother/ Here I have no Christian friend; and some- 
times my spirits sink very low, when I think on other 
days. But these are sinful thoughts. ' The Lord gave, 
and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of 
the Lord.' Perhaps some path of usefulness may be 
pointed out to me ; but at present, I see little probability 
of doing anything, except with my pupil. I have been in 
Glasgow twice. 1 met Mr. Erskine there, as well as Mr, 
Ewing, &c. All are against my being a missionary, but 
I have heard no arguments against it that seem to me at 
all conclusive. What is doing in Edinburgh ? Have you 
any intercourse with the few St. Andrian friends that are 
in the great city ? Alas ! for our little circle. It is now 
sadly broken up, and we never shall form a little circle 
again. One of our number is in the south of England, 
another in the north of Scotland, and all scattered abroad. 
The fragments of the little community are in Edinburgh, 
The ' tria are there ; but, alas ! they are no longer 
'juncta in uno.'* But, I hope my lamentations are 
groundless. Have you no combinations for plans of use- 
fulness either among yourselves, or of a more extensive 

* He alludes to the St. Andrew's University Magazine, which had 
this motto. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 191 

nature ? Something was talked of when I was in Edin- 
burgh. Has it been accomplished ? When do you go to 
Kirkliston ? Let me hear particularly of your operations 
there. There will be full scope for your most strenuous 
exertions. Can you suggest to me any practicable scheme 
of usefulness ? Do favour me with a long letter." 

Determined not to remain idle, notwithstanding the 
obscurity and difficulty of his situation, after very con- 
siderable exertion, he succeeded in collecting a number of 
young men together, and for their benefit, prepared a 
very excellent address. As it fully explains the nature 
of the meeting which he proposed, it may suggest to some 
others the importance of making similar attempts, by 
which great good might be effected.* 

About this time he appears to have laboured under 
severe mental depression. Of the cause of this no doubt 
can now be entertained. It was, doubtless, symptomatic 
of the insidious disease which was appointed by God to be 
the messenger of his dismission. That it was cherished 
by the intense working of his mind, by his seclusion from 
that kind of society which was congenial to his feelings, 
and by anxiety respecting the accomplishment of his much 
desired object, I feel equally assured. I think it right to 
give the following extract from his journal, which will ex- 
plain some of the allusions in his letters. 

"July 18th. Rose at seven. Have suffered excessively 
to-day from mental depression, and could assign no 
specific cause for it. I am half-inclined to ascribe it to 
* See Appendix L. 



192 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

the immediate agency of Satan, or some of his emissaries. 
The Lord has been graciously pleased to restore me to 
tranquillity ; and I remember the former part of the day 
as I would a terrific dream. I had the opportunity of 
going in the carriage to Hamilton, and was in hopes that 
the fresh breeze, and the laughing face of nature, would 
dispel the gloomy darkness within my breast. But it was 
all in vain ; the malady raged with greater violence, so as 
almost to make me dread real madness, and to recall to 
my mind a fearful night of distraction last winter. I have 
besought the Lord earnestly that this might depart from 
me ; and I believe that I owe my present tranquillity to 
his gracious condescension in listening to my prayers. I 
feel, what my pride likes ill to admit, that I am a very 
feeble creature ; weak, not only in body, but still weaker 
in mind ! Is this a fit character for a missionary ? In 
this work I shall soon fail, except the Lord strengthen 
me. But even I may say, ' I can do all things through 
Christ strengthening me.' After all, I have forced my- 
self to go through nearly all my regular studies to-day. 

"Friday. — Have discovered much to-night of the 
cursed pride, fickleness, and vanity of my heart. Did 
those who esteem me most, know me as I do myself, they 
would abhor me. I do abhor myself. Spent half an hour 
in prayer, in severe mental conflict. But even for this 
conviction of sin, I will be thankful. It is well to know 
the worst, although I fear I do not know the worst yet. 
6 Who can understand his errors ¥ 

" I know the remedy ; and, blessed be God, despair has 
not yet barred the way to it, although I fear, from the 
little effect my supposed application to the gospel has yet 
produced, that I know not how to use the remedy. The 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 193 

Lord can teach me. The workings of my mind have been 
severely painful for some days, although in very different 
ways. Perhaps the Lord has given me over, like his 
ancient servant, of whom I have been reading, to be 
tempted of Satan. Has the Mediator ' prayed for me, 
that my faith fail not V I will believe that all this is 
for good. May it lead me to know my own utter weak- 
ness, that so I may make the Lord my strength ! Then 
I may say with Paul, 'when I am weak, then am I 
strong/ " 

"Tennoch Side, July 17, 1826. 
" My Dear Trail — I believe, in regard to Christian 
society, your circumstances very nearly resemble my 
own : and if, in these circumstances, you feel as keenly as 
I sometimes do, I know that a letter from an old com- 
panion will not be unacceptable, even though it contain 
/nothing new.' Accept of my sincere thanks for the 
notes of introduction you left for my friend and me. I 
was sorry that my short stay in Edinburgh permitted me 
to pay but a very short visit to Wellwood Lodge. A 
Polish missionary was staying there when I called, with 
whom I conversed a little. I was prevented from accom- 
panying our friend, John Adam, on his missionary tour, 
in consequence of illness. I believe he enjoyed it very 
much. I am now fairly settled, within eight miles of 
Glasgow, removed from every Christian friend who might 
excite and encourage me ; and sometimes I acknowledge I 
feel very much depressed : but the Lord is ever near. If 
I feel so faint-hearted here, I know not how I shall en- 
dure the living solitude of a city of idolaters, or the 
extreme dreariness of a savage desert. But, ' through 
17 



194 MEMOIR OE JOIIN URQUIIART. 

Christ strengthening me I can do all things.' What plans 
of usefulness have you set on foot, since I saw you ? Can 
you suggest anything to me, that I can accomplish here ? 
Have you any particular plans in instructing your pupils, 
which you can communicate, for I feel myself quite a 
novice in the art of teaching ; and I am aware that there 
is no small responsibility connected with duties, that have 
such an immense influence in forming a mind which is to 
exist for ever ; and which, in the remotest ages of its eter- 
nity, perhaps, is to bear, in some respects, the form of that 
mould which was impressed on it in the earliest years of 
its existence. Have you been thinking more of missions ? 
I find everybody dissuades and discourages me, urging the 
great wants of our own country. I think I feel the claims 
of our own land as strongly as some who urge them against 
my plans. But still this does not prevent me from feeling 
the immense argumentative force of the simple fact, that 
nothing has yet been done for heathen nations, propor- 
tional to their vast extent ; and nothing to fulfil the wide 
command of our Lord. I have had two letters from Captain 
Felix, pressing on my attention the state of Ireland. By this 
time, our dear friend Nesbit has applied to the Scottish 
Missionary Society. I trust that more of our little circle 
will follow his example. How unfortunate are the debates 
about the apocryphal question ! But why should I say 
unfortunate, as if they could happen without the know- 
ledge of the great Head of the Church. 

" 18t7i. I have been reading the former part of my sheet 
which was written last night, and find it is a very dull and 
careless scrawl. I wish I could send you something bet- 
ter ; but the fact is, I have been labouring under very un- 
common mental depression, which renders me unfit for 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 195 

doing anything as I could wish. I have had a drive in 
the carriage to Hamilton to-day, and feel rather better. 
I know you are never troubled with this sort of affliction, 
and may be disposed to laugh at it ; but I can assure you, 
it is ten-fold more distressing than bodily disease. The 
latter often adds to spiritual comfort ; the former gene- 
rally destroys it. But I am ashamed of having said so 
much about my weaknesses ; and assuredly I should not have 
adverted to the subject, were it not as a plea for an early 
communication from you. Send me something to cheer 
and console me. Direct me to the great objects of eter- 
nity, and stir me up to do something in the cause of the 
Lord. Although I am sometimes thus depressed, it is not 
always so. The Lord has been very kind to me since I 
came here. I have been forced to seek all my enjoyments 
in communion with God. It is well, when we hasten after 
other lovers, that He, who will have our whole heart, 
should hedge up our way. And when he leads us into the 
wildeimess, and dries up many a source of what seemed 
holy enjoyment, it is often not to punish, but to bless us, 
to i speak comfortably' to us. We do well, my friend, to 
examine whether the Lord alone be the object of our 
affections. When surrounded by pious friends, who are 
ready to praise, or, at least, to esteem us for our zeal in 
furthering the interests of religion, it is difficult to deter- 
mine the nature of our motives. Those who went before 
our Saviour in triumph to Jerusalem, crying Hosanna, &c, 
were probably afterwards found consenting to his death ; 
and even the boldest and most devoted of his chosen few, 
'forsook him and fled.' Are we ready to follow the Lord 
through bad as well as through good report ? Have we 
ever yet been put to the trial ? Have you read Samuel 



196 MEMOIR OF JOHN UKQUHART. 

Rutherford's letters ? I have been delighted and humbled 
by the perusal. How much of heaven may be enjoyed on 
earth, if we will but care to seek for it. I feel that I 
know nothing yet of Christ, or of fellowship with him. 
Write very soon to your affectionate brother." 

" Tennoch Side, July 22, 182G. 
"My Dear Anne — Your verses pleased me much; 
and with what else I have seen of your first attempts at 
composition, lead me fondly to hope, that talents have 
been bestowed on you, which, with due culture, and per- 
severing application, may render you, I will not say 
accomplished^ for that is a vain thing, as the term is gene- 
rally used ; but to use an apparently humbler, yet, in 
reality, far more honourable term, talents that may render 
you useful. I say not this to make you proud, but to 
humble you, and to encourage you to persevere. You 
know very little yet, you have much to learn. I may just 
hint, that in your letter, I can observe a deficiency in one 
of the most requisite of all literary acquisitions. You 
know what I mean. But in the present case, the hurry 
in which your letter has evidently been written, is a suffi- 
cient excuse. I like your verses. The idea in the fourth 
verse, I think, is truly poetical. But I would not have 
you aim at being a poetess, my sister. Make it an amuse- 
ment if you will, or a means of acquiring correctness and 
facility of expression, but do not make it your aim. The 
most brilliant acquirements are not the most useful. Let 
me remind you, my dear Anne, that you and I are born 
to fill humble stations in this world, (and God be thanked, 
it is so; the humblest are the happiest.) Do not aim, 
then, at anything above your station. Do not court the 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 197 

society of the rich and the gay ; for, comparatively, I may 
apply these terms even to the little sphere in which you 
move ; but choose your companions from those who have 
the true riches of knowledge, and (if I may add a qualifi- 
cation you may not easily find) sterling piety. The man- 
ners of your companions should not be overlooked ; and, 
by this expression, I do not so much mean the knowledge, 
or ready repetition of a few kind-looking phrases, which 
even the most unkind can learn, as that amiable and 
obliging disposition, which is the politeness of the heart. 
In the present state of society, however, a person who 
wishes to be truly agreeable, will see the necessity of 
attending to a few of those forms of kindness which pass 
current in the world. I did not mean to write so many 
advices ; but now that I have begun, I will plead the 
authority, I will rather say, the affection of a brother, as 
an excuse for adding some more. Let me entreat you to 
cultivate domestic virtues. The Bible bids us not only 
love and obey, but also honour our parents. Be particu- 
larly careful to remember this, especially in regard to our 
dear mother, to whom your little services may now render 
considerable assistance. Above all, my very dear sister, 
let me entreat you to remember that we were not made 
merely to figure for a little on the stage of this passing 
world. This life is but the infancy of an eternal exist- 
ence ; and yet, here the choice must be made, that shall 
render all that is worth calling the life of an immortal 
creature, perfectly happy, or perfectly wretched. You 
think you know the truths of the gospel, my sister. Do 
you feel its influence ? Do not be even too sure that you 
understand the message of glad tidings in the Bible. 
Many who now think they understand, will find hereafter 
17* 



198 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

that they have mistaken its meaning. But, do remem- 
ber ! it is not enough to understand. Examine whether 
Christ, and his atonement alone, be all your salvation. It 
is easy to mistake. We are never more apt to sleep the 
sleep of a security, from which eternal death alone will 
awake us, than when guarded from gross temptations by 
protecting friends, accustomed from infancy to correct, or 
at least, seemingly correct views of the gospel. My dear 
sister, as you value your happiness, beware of a misplaced 
hope of heaven. I do not cease to pray that the Lord 
would make you his own. I should think my prayers in 
part answered, did I know that you had been constrained 
to pray with earnestness for yourself." 

"August 2, 1826. 
" My very Dear Brother — They say there is more 
pleasure in hope, than in actual enjoyment ; and, perhaps, 
this is the reason why I have not written to you sooner. 
You know I used to have a great aversion to letter writing ; 
but now that it is almost the only kind of Christian inter- 
course that is left me, you may guess that I regard it with 
very different feelings. For a week past I have been 
cheering my solitary hours with the thought, that I was 
just about to unbosom freely all my feelings to my dear 
John Adam, (a luxury, which is not the least precious 
privilege of true friendship), and day after day, some 
little trifle has seemed a sufficient reason for putting off; 
while I believed the true cause of the delay has been, the 
desire to indulge this pleasing expectation a little longer. 
And now that I have sat down to write, I frankly acknow- 
ledge that I have little or nothing to say, — at least, in 
the shape of news. I left Dysart too late to see you 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQTJHART. 199 

again in Edinburgh, whence I proceeded to this place of 
exile, where I have now counted five or six tardy weeks 
of unvaried sameness, excepting one or two visits to Glas- 
gow and an occasional walk to Old Monkland Manse. 
You know me too well to require me to tell you how I feel, 
without a single Christian friend near. The harp has 
been often out of tune ; and sometimes, I have feared that 
its strings were about to break, when the Lord has again 
tuned it to his own praise. Yes, my dear friend, I have 
seen much of the deceitfulness of my own heart since I 
came here. I thought I could leave all, and live happy 
in a solitary desert, for the sake of Christ. But I find 
that much of my happiness was drawn from cisterns, and 
not from the life-giving fountain. And now that the 
Lord has, in mercy, broken these, to lead me to himself, 
I have been ready to weep as if my all were lost. I fear 
I have mistaken love to Christians for love to Christ. I 
feel more reconciled to this banishment, when I think that 
it may be intended to wean me from earth, and to fit me 
more for the missionary life. I have hopes that I may be 
honoured to be useful to my dear pupil. He is a most 
interesting boy ; in our daily reading of the Scriptures, 
he makes inquiries which delight me, and sometimes 
astonish me. All things are possible with God. 

" Monday evening — The above was written on Saturday 
night, and your welcome epistle was put into my hand 
yesterday morning. Your serious charges of carelessness 
might require to be more seriously met, than in the above 
nondescript rhapsody, which you see had anticipated 
them ; but too much of my sheet is now filled, to leave 
any space for apologies. I leave you to make them for 
me. I am rejoiced at your intention of sending a paper 



200 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

on missions to the Evangelical Magazine. It has a most 
extensive circulation. My conscience has been sorely 
reproaching me for my negligence on this subject. I have 
been partly terrified out of the idea of attempting publi- 
cation, from the decided opposition our sentiments on this 
subject have met with, when I have laid them before those, 
whom I have, from infancy, looked up to as men mighty 
in the Scriptures. Do not mistake me ; my own convic- 
tions are by no means weakened. Every prayer deepens 
their impression. And at times of closer communion with 
God, a brighter light seems to be shed on the path before 
me. My own conscience must be my guide ; but I have 
discovered so much of my own fickleness, and weakness 
of mind, that I do fear to propose my seniments as rules 
of conduct to others. i Instead of being a teacher, I have 
need that one teach me what are the first principles of the 
oracles of Christ/ I have only begun to discover my real 
character ; and I honestly believe, that did any of my 
friends know me as I know myself, they would be utterly 
disgusted with me, and scarcely believe me a Christian. 
But what has this to do with the subject ? — Much. When 
I think of myself, a poor weak-minded boy, — the crea- 
ture of emotion, and almost the slave of circumstances, 
entertaining opinions different from all my friends in 
Christ, however strongly they are impressed on my own 
mind, I have great misgivings when I think of presenting 
them to others. I am glad to have one, at least, who 
agrees with me. Our comparison of the present genera- 
tion in our land, to the Jews in the days of the apostles, 
is very much disliked. The supposition, that we are called 
to imitate the apostles in going to the Gentiles, Mr. E. 
thinks quite enthusiastic. I like your plan much. It is 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHAKT. 201 

very comprehensive. I hope it will be admitted, but I 
hardly expect it. I have no Christian friends here ; but 
it is all well. I am forced to seek closer communion with 
God. Yes. forced. How just is your idea of the refuge. 
I have been, at times, apt to murmur at being sent here ; 
but I am sure it is for good. I have seen practically illus- 
trated, that man, at his best estate, is altogether vanity. 
I have seen more of the wickedness of my own heart ; 
but more too of the preciousness and sufficiency of the 
Saviour. My studies have all a bearing on the Bible ; 
and, I think, I study as much here as ever I have done 
any where.' ' 

"August 10, 1826. 
" My very Dear Friend — I am really ashamed of 
not writing sooner ; and yet it has not been for want of 
inclination. I have been waiting for an opportunity to 
send ; and I write this, expecting that I may be able to 
send it by Miss Cathcart. It is not often that a day has 
passed without remembering you before the Lord. Now 
that I have no Christian friend (indeed no friend at all) 
near me, I find it, indeed, a delightful exercise, to meet 
my brethren and sisters in the Lord at a throne of grace. 
You have been long a prisoner, and I am now an exile. 
Yes ; I am indeed banished from all that I love in this 
world ; and I sometimes think that the Lord may be thus 
preparing me for the trials of the missionary life, by 
debarring me the privilege of Christian intercourse. I am 
often much depressed; and this convinces me that I have not 
yet given my whole heart to God. I think I can see that 
I have been sent here for good. The Lord often leads us 
into the wilderness, to speak comfortably to us. He breaks 



202 MEMOIR OF JOHN UEQUIIART. 

the cisterns we have hewed out for ourselves, to lead us 
to the life-giving fountain. It is perhaps well for us, when 
communion with God is our only enjoyment ; and so it is 
with me from necessity. 

" I was glad to hear that you had had some little respite, 
so as to be able to wait upon God in the assembly of his 
people. How amiable are his tabernacles ! What must 
heaven be, where the Sabbath is eternal, and the temple 
is the Lord himself! — 'Yet a little while,' (in your case 
a very little while at the longest), ' and he that shall come, 
will come, and will not tarry/ 

" I have been reading Samuel Rutherford's letters of 
late, and have been much delighted with them. What 
advances he had made in the way of holiness ! I think, 
in the present day, Christians are apt to be content with 
too little. There might be more of that knowledge of 
God and of his Son, which is eternal life, — even in this 
world, if we would but seek for it more earnestly. It is 
not enough to enter the strait gate, we must also walk 
in the narrow way. Sanctification is part of our salva- 
tion. And hence it is, that our most gracious Father 
sees meet to visit his children (as you can testify) with 
manifold afflictions and temptations, that the trial of their 
faith being much more precious than that of perishable 
gold, might be found unto praise, and honour, and glory, 
at the appearance of Jesus Christ. I doubt not, you can 
testify that the furnace of affliction is a refining surface. 

" My dear friend, I should value a letter from you very 
much. My experience in the Christian life amounts to 
nothing more than a discovery of my wretchedness, and a 
wish for something better. I can write little to comfort 
you, — I can only complain of short-coming. My own 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 203 

deadness and indifference, often make me doubt whether 
I have yet tasted that the Lord is gracious. I know not 
anything so calculated to confirm and strengthen the faith 
of an infant Christian, as the testimony of an aged saint, 
— especially an aged sufferer, who can tell that all the 
promises of God are yea, and amen. It is true, our faith 
should need the aid of no auxiliary evidence, when we 
have the promise, — nay, the oath of Him who cannot lie. 
But it does need it. I feel my faith often mingled with 
distrust. And even when I can say 'I believe,' I have 
need to prefer the petition, 'Lord, help my unbelief.' If 
you are so much recovered, as I have some reason to hope, 
from what I have heard, perhaps you may write a few 
lines of encouragement to 

" Your most affectionate brother in the Lord." 

"August 15, 1826. 
" My Dear Friend — I thank you for your kind and 
undeserved letter, and rejoice to hear of your attempt to 
illuminate the dark places of our own land. I am anxious 
to hear of the success of your plans. I have been led in 
the very consideration of the missionary question, to 
regard more attentively the state of our own country as 
to religious knowledge. It has been the increasing argu- 
ment of my friends, against my intention of going to the 
heathen, that there is much yet to be done at home. The 
force of this argument, I feel to a certain extent ; but I 
find it is apt to be urged sometimes, by those very persons 
who are slumbering on as if nothing were to be done at 
all. There is much to be done at home ; and there is need 
for very vigorous exertion. There are many, in this 
nominally Christian country, who are quite ignorant of 



204 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

what true Christianity is. This is, indeed, a dreadful 
thought, when we consider how many true Christians are 
scattered over the land. Take the case of some deadly 
bodily disease, (an illustration which has been so often 
put), and think how we should look upon him who could 
calmly sit still, and see his neighbour or his townsman 
drop into the jaws of death, while he was acquainted with 
a remedy, whose application, experience had proved to be 
a certain cure. Would it be an excuse for this indiffer- 
ence, that an unaccountable prejudice existed against the 
remedy in question, or that it was one of the fearful 
symptoms of the disorder, that the unhappy victim im- 
agined himself in good health ? Suppose even further, 
that dispensaries were established through the land, where 
the medicine was distributed gratis, to all who chose to 
apply. (But, alas ! I almost had forgot that in order to 
complete the analogy here, I must further suppose, that 
at many, nay at the greater number of these dispensaries, 
a counterfeit drug was given for the real elixir.) Would 
humanity think it too much, in such circumstances, to walk 
from one scene of wretchedness to another, and earnestly 
recommend to the unhappy sufferers, the use of a specific 
of such sovereign virtue ? Is it true, that a malady is 
actually raging in our own land, — in our own town, in 
our own neighbour's house — it may be in our own family, 
— a malady so dreadful, that the whole sum of human 
wretchedness, in all its sad forms of bodily pain or mental 
anguish, can give but a faint idea of it, and is indeed, but 
one of its least fearful consequences ? Is it true, I say, 
that we believe such a fell disorder to be raging at our 
very doors ; and believe, too, that we have discovered a 
sovereign antidote to its baneful influence, and yet scarce 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQITHART. 205 

put forth a finger to administer the balm of life to our 
fellow-sufferers ? I do think, my dear sir, that private 
Christians must do more than they do, if they would stand 
clear of the blood of those who perish around them. 
They are not called to minister in public, — but might 
they not do much in preaching the Gospel from house to 
house? In the supposed case of bodily disease, would it 
be an excuse for indifference or neglect on the part of any 
one who had the means and opportunity of usefulness, 
that there were physicians in the land, whose business it 
was to attend to the sick ? And is not the case quite par- 
allel ? I did not intend to fill my sheet in this way ; but 
when I get into a subject, I often find it difficult to leave 
it. I forget that I am writing a letter, and not an essay. 
I have attempted to get some people to meet with me 
here ; but there is no village quite near, and it being har- 
vest, it has quite failed in the meantime ; but I mean to 
make another attempt after the harvest is over. I am 
confined, in the meantime, to private visiting, and the 
distribution of tracts. This, I think, a means of useful- 
ness, which ought to be neglected by none who would at- 
tend to the injunction, — ' In the morning sow thy seed/ 
&c. I have thought a good deal of Ireland of late. It 
has strong claims ; still, I think the heathen have stronger. " 

"August 16, 1826. 
"My Dear Friend — It has not been forgetfulness, or 
want of inclination that has kept me from writing sooner. 
I have often thought of writing ; but I feel, that the whole 
favour of this correspondence is on your side, for I have 
little to communicate that can be interesting to you. My 
only motive for troubling you with a postage, would have 
18 



206 MEMOIR OF JOHN IT RQ HEART. 

been the hope of eliciting a letter from you in return ; and 
this, I thought too selfish a motive to allow myself to be 
influenced by it. Bat, at your request, I will write to you, 
as the desire to comply with this will be a sufficient 
apology for an uninteresting letter. I am here quite 

retired from the world. Colonel M sees very little 

company, and even with that little, I can mix as little as 
I choose. I dine, in general, with my pupil, (at my own 
desire,) and spend nearly the whole day in my study. 
This state of seclusion has its advantages and its disad- 
vantages too. There is much time for the study of one's 
own heart, and for the contemplation of an unseen world. 
But the mind is apt to prey too much on itself. There is 
none of that reciprocal sympathy, which is so delightful ; 
which, by dividing our griefs, can almost remove our sor- 
row ; and, by partaking our happiness, does not diminish 
but multiplies our joy. I have no one here who is like- 
minded with me ; and in these circumstances, my spirits 
sometimes sink very low. I know this is very sinful, for 
God is here, and the access to his throne is here as free as 
in the bosom of Christian society. This, indeed, is my 
only enjoyment ; 

" * That were a grief I could not bear, 
Didst thou not hear and answer prayer; 
But a prayer-hearing, answering God, 
Supports me under every load.' 

" Sometimes when I enjoy a nearer approach to God, I 
can, indeed, feel that the loss of Christian fellowship is 
more than made up ; but, in seasons of coldness and indif- 
ference, there is none to stir me up, and nothing that can 
give comfort. But it is well that it is so. It is well to be 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 207 

compelled to have continual recourse to a throne of grace. 
How sinful for a Christian ever to think of despondency, 
with such glorious hopes, and such precious promises to 
encourage him. But sin will damp the most glorious 
hopes, and unbelief will render unavailing the most pre- 
cious promises. Perfect happiness can be attained only 
by the attainment of perfect holiness : while sin wars in 
the members, there must be a want of enjoyment. I feel 
that it is sin which separates between my soul and God. 
I am sometimes discouraged to think that I have now 
seemed to myself a believer for a considerable time, and 
yet I look in vain for a progress in holiness and likeness 
to God If I have advanced at all, it has been in the dis- 
covery of my own utter worthlessness. I do feel more 
than ever, that I am poor, and miserable, and wretched, 
and blind, and naked. that the Lord would discover 
to me more abundantly the riches of his grace, and let me 
feel more the presence of that Comforter, who is assuredly 
with me, if I have not received the grace of God in vain. 
" I have few opportunities of usefulness here ; and this 
is sometimes a cause of sinful discouragement. I attempted 
a meeting, which failed, owing to the hurry of the harvest ! 
I have visited most of the cottages near, and distributed 
tracts, in which employment my little pupil is very willing 
to assist me. I have discovered one house of mourning, 
a family that has been much afflicted ; there is a willing- 
ness to listen to divine things. I went with a person last 
Sabbath, who preached on an outside stair, in one of the 
lanes of Glasgow. I confess that it was not without 
trembling, and some degree of reluctance, that I consented 
to conclude the service by prayer. The people who 
gathered around us, I am convinced, cannot be reached 



208 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

in any other way. ! to be willing to be accounted the 
off-scouring of all things for Christ's sake. I have seen 
Mr. Burnet, and have promised to take Ireland into con- 
sideration, in making up my mind as to the course of life by 
which I can most glorify God. I still feel the claims of 
the heathen to be the strongest, although some very highly 
respected friends here, think I might be more useful at 
home. I trust my only wish is, to know the will of God." 

The following extracts are from various letters, written 
to his friend, William Scott Moncrieff, in the months of 
July and August. 

u From what you say of your friend, I suppose he has 

made an engagement with Mr. G . I trust it will turn 

out for the mutual benefit of himself and his pupils ; indeed, 
why should I say, I trust ? (which is always an expression 
of some degree of distrust ;) we know that all things work 
together for the good of them that love God. I rejoice to 
hear of your intended return to St. Andrew's ; you must 
stir up the embers of the flame that has been kindled. 
There is much to be done, my dear friend, everywhere ; 
and I think every Christian, however obscure, must feel in 
some degree with the apostle, that there is a woe pro- 
nounced against him, if he publish not the joyful intelli- 
gence with which heaven has favoured him. It is well 
that death should sometimes deprive us of a familiar ac- 
quaintance, or a dear relative ; for the death of thousands 
whom we have never seen, or at least never known, has 
been scarcely sufficient to prove to us, that we may die ; 
and all the warnings we receive fail of practically con- 
vincing us that we must. How difficult to conceive the 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 209 

true ratio of the finite to the infinite, of this brief life to 
that never-ending existence into which it ushers us ! And, 
if difficult to conceive, 0, how difficult practically to feel 
it ! There is something delightfully pleasing in the ' little 
while' (ocrov otfov) of the New Testament, if we are waiting 
for our Lord ; but, if careless and indifferent, or afraid of his 
coming, how alarming the idea, that ' the Lord is at hand!' 
Let us gird up the loins of our mind. Let us devote all 
our time to the service of our Master ; c now is our salva- 
tion nearer, than when we believed.' Our friends are 
parting from us on every side, and we are scattered over 
the wide world. It is all well ; ' this is not your rest.' 
Let our hopes rest on nothing short of heaven. It is true, 
that the communion of the saints on earth resembles the 
intercourse of just men made perfect ; but 0, what a re- 
semblance ! How unlike these grovelling souls to the 
spirits around the throne ! And these corruptible bodies, 
how vile compared with those immortal forms, which shall 
be fashioned like the glorious body of the omnipotent Sove- 
reign of the universe ! And even our communion with 
God here, how distant, how much interrupted by sin, or 
obscured by unbelief! How few, and far between the 
visits of our Saviour's love, when we think of that place 
where they ' cease not day and night to praise him ;' and 
where they have no need of a temple, for ' the Lord God 
and the Lamb are the temple thereof.' Let us hold fast 
our confidence, and run with patience, looking unto Jesus ; 
and, ere a few more years have rolled over us, we shall 
join that 'multitude which no man can number.' 

" You could not have sent me anything more appropri- 
ate than Stewart's Discourses on the Advent. You know 
me too well to need to be told how I felt when separated 
18* 



210 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

from you all, and without a single individual to whom I 
could speak with freedom on the subjects nearest my heart. 
Mr. Stewart's book I have found a delightful companion. 
If I can guess at his peculiar views of the Redeemer's 
advent, through the veil of modesty which almost conceals 
them, I am scarcely prepared entirely to agree with him. 
I have been so accustomed to dwell with pleasure on those 
brighter times to which prophecy seems to point, that the 
bare possibility that the Lord may come to-day, or to-mor- 
row, seems to blast all these delightful hopes ; i a multi- 
tude, which no man can number, must first be gathered 
out of every tribe, and kindred.' Still, as Mr. Stewart 
observes, this may be very soon accomplished. Oh, that 
we may be looking for, and hastening on, the coming of 
the day of God ! 

"I have a great dislike to writing letters, but nothing 
gives me greater pleasure than to receive them. I guess 
that this is pretty nearly the case with some of my friends, 
and therefore a consideration of the golden rule should 
lead me to like the task of letter-writing better. I am 
most particularly anxious to hear from my friends, since 
I came to this solitary place ; and a friendly letter, always 
pleasing, will now be doubly sweet. The words, and the 
looks of friendship I cannot now enjoy. It3 written com- 
munications are all that are left to me. How unthankful 
we are ever apt to be ! What a privilege is it that we can 
convey our thoughts to an absent friend ! Without the 
noble invention of writing, a few miles would separate us 
more effectually from our friends, than half the circum- 
ference of the globe can, possessed as we are of this won- 
derful medium of intercourse. But, after all, epistolary 
correspondence is but a poor substitute for personal inter- 



MEMOIR E JOHN URQUHART. 211 

course. We have symbols to express our thoughts, but 
we have no written characters that can express that pecu- 
liar vividness of impression, or tenderness of feeling which 
is conveyed by the eye, the features, and the very tone of 
voice of a present friend. The words of a letter are in 
some respects dead, like the characters that represent 
them, while the words of the friend with whom we con- 
verse, and even the ideas, which these words express, 
seem to borrow life and loveliness from the lips and coun- 
tenance that give them utterance. I have been writing 
several other letters to-day ; and I believe that, in all of 
them, I have been mourning over the loss of friends, and 
lingering on the recollections of other days. And yet I 
feel that it is wrong to do so. This is a world of change ; 
and, if our affections are set on any, even the worthiest 
of the objects that flit before us, our happiness will be but 
short-lived. If we be risen with Christ, let us set our 
affections on things above. If we would faithfully serve 
our Master, we must not look for a life of ease here, or 
even of enjoyment ; we must ' endure hardness as good 
soldiers of Jesus Christ.' I do little else than study, and 
walk with my pupil, who is a very interesting boy. I 
have only been to ride once ; I went to call with Colonel 

M- at Lord Douglas's, but my horse ran off with me 

three several times ; I was very thankful to have escaped 
safe, and have not thought it prudent to risk my life in 

such circumstances since. Colonel M promises to 

get a pony, which I can ride, soon. Let it be our great 
object in our letters to provoke each other to love and to 
good works ; for all is trifling, that does not bear directly 
or indirectly on eternity.' ' 



212 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

" I relish my solitude much better than I did. I am 
utterly confounded to think of the unnumbered mercies 
the Lord has heaped upon me, and on the discontented 
ungrateful feelings, I have often indulged. I have had a 
long walk this evening, visiting from cottage to cottage, 
with the view of collecting a few young people to form a 
weekly meeting. Great backwardness is manifested ; and 
I have but faint hopes of its succeeding. I regret that I 
had so little Christian intercourse with you, and my other 
friends, in Edinburgh. I find that the bustle of travel- 
ling, and the excitement of new scenes and new circum- 
stances, have a strong tendency to destroy spirituality 
of isdnd." 

A letter from his friend C, appears to have contained 
some intimations of a very afflicting and painful nature, 
respecting the workings of his mind. It produced the 
long letter, which follows : 

"My ever Dear C. — Your last letter was, indeed, a 
most overwhelming letter, and did I really know any 
remedy for your mental distress, it were indeed cruel to 
have delayed so long to administer it. But I have been 
perplexed and confounded. I have resolved to write and 
yet tremble to take up my pen. I have delayed thus long, 
to meditate and to pray. When the spirit of my friend 
was wounded, — so severely wounded, I feared to take the 
knife into my own unskilful hand ; and it seemed to me 
wisest to apply to the great Physician of the soul. The 
more I have thought of your case, the more I feel that it 
is beyond the power of human relief. I have done all I 
can. I have entreated Him, who alone can bind up the 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 213 

broken spirit, to send relief. He knows, from dread ex- 
perience, the depths of temptation ; he has experienced 
the horrors of an hour, when God seemed to have forsaken 
him, and the power of darkness appeared to rage trium- 
phant. I write in the full hope, that ere now, your dark- 
ness has been dispelled by light from above ; for it is light 
from Heaven alone, which can dispel such darkness. You 
see, I have taken a large sheet of paper at your request ; 
but it is only because of that request : for really, I can 
pretend to give no consolation. I can only direct you to 
a higher source ; but I can do so with the fullest confi- 
dence, that there you will assuredly find it. 

" The metaphysics of natural religion I have studied 
but little ; but if I can judge from that little, it seems to 
me, that the pretended demonstrations of the immortality 
of the soul, and the moral attributes of God, are little 
better than proofs how profoundly and ingeniously man 
can trifle. Much solid argument may be expended in the 
investigation, and many an ingenious method of argumen- 
tation discovered. We may have logically refuted, or 
appeared to refute, the objections of an opponent ; but when 
w T e come to retrace all the steps, we find that no lasting 
impression is produced, — nothing satisfactory attained. 
Such discussions seem to me, to end in nothing more than 
the ingenious and well-calculated moves in a game of chess. 
We have had some intellectual amusement ; and perhaps, 
too, we may have won the game, — but that is all. I have 
lately read the third volume of a novel called Tremaine, 
where the arguments of Clark, &c. seem to me well con- 
densed, and convincingly stated ; but the above was my 
impression on perusing them. By the way, the above is 
no ordinary novel ; it is well worth a reading. The clear, 



214 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

the acute, the matchless Brown, seems, on this subject, a 
trifler. Indeed, the dark cloud of mystery which veils 
the spiritual world, gives us a liberty to imagine of it what 
w r e please, and a little ingenuity is all that is necessary to 
seem to prove, what we imagine, in a region wholly un- 
known. The more we think, the more we are persuaded 
of the reality of our own fancies, as when we gaze on the 
shapeless masses of coal in a fire, or on the clouds of a 
confused sky, our imagination can picture forth the out- 
lines of animals, or castles, or forests, or any tiling, which 
seem to grow more and more distinct the longer we gaze. 
But where have I wandered to ? I might have told you 
in one little sentence, that I have felt these metaphysical 
reasonings to be as unsatisfactory as you do, who have 
dived deeper into their profundities. Let me say, how- 
ever, before leaving this tantalizing subject, that I do 
think the existence, (and if the existence, of course the 
natural attributes of God), abundantly proved by the ob- 
jects around us. For this, Dr. Brown says, and I think 
truly, that we have not to search far amid the mysteries 
of nature, to find proofs ; far less to tread the labyrinths 
of a priori argumentation. He who sees not a Deity in 
the marks and designs displayed in his own body, or in 
many of the most familiar objects around him, will not be 
convinced by demonstration itself. 

" To leave this then, — How delightful the facts of the 
gospel and the well-accredited testimony of an eye-witness 
from the world of spirits ! But I know the dreadful sub- 
ject, which is the cause (shall I say, which was the cause) 
of your doubts and your distress. Millions created for a 
moment's giddy pleasure, — and then an eternity of un- 
mingled wretchedness. Ah, my friend, the argument has 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 215 

struck my mind too with overwhelming force ; and its 
stroke has cut the deeper, edged, as it has been in my 
case, (I believe in yours too), with the poignant reflection, 
that some whom I hold dearest ' according to the fleshy 
seem, at present, to be walking on to the gulf of eternal 
perdition. But why should I introduce this here ? You 
can sympathize with me. Oh, if there is ever a time that 
this proud heart can think with real delight of its own 
insignificance and ignorance, — it is, when oppressed by 
this awfully mysterious subject. When my mind has been 
darkened by presumptuous thoughts regarding the justice 
and mercy of the Eternal, the feeble ray of a single twink- 
ling star has seemed like a ray of hope ; and the concep- 
tion of myriads of such worlds, or clusters of worlds, if 
it has not dispelled the darkness of the soul, has at least 
given the certain expectation, that soon it will be dis- 
pelled. What are we, that w^e should fathom the counsels 
of the eternal and omnipotent Jehovah ? ' Who art thou, 
man, that repliest against God V Has not God reveal- 
ed to us enough, to warrant this trial of our faith, espe- 
cially when the express assurance is given, that a time is 
coming, when we shall ' know as we are known V 

"After writing this long letter, I am almost ashamed 
of it. I have written, as if I were combating the argu- 
ments of an infidel, instead of attempting to console a 
Christian brother, whom the adversary has been permitted 
to attack. It would, indeed, be cruel to heal up a canker- 
ing wound, ere it had been probed to the very bottom ; 
but I think I am not guilty of this, when I say, that even 
in that most dismal letter, there are the proofs of a regen- 
erated soul. Peter was given up to the temptations of 
Satan, that he might be shown his own weakness. Some 



216 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

of the most eminent servants of God have been left to 
wander even into the dreary regions of atheism for a while, 
as if to show their own depravity, when unassisted by 
divine grace. do not talk of the unwilling rejection 
of a God ! All atheists are wilful atheists. This, I must 
believe, while I believe the Bible. God has had some end 
in view, my dear friend, in giving you up to these dread- 
ful thoughts. I trust he will bring good out of seeming 
evil, and that this severe trial will lead you to lie more 
humbly at the foot of the cross, and to put less confidence 
than ever in the speculations of a bewildering philosophy. 
Excuse — no, I will not say excuse, I have spoken with the 
freedom of Christian love. I have not half answered your 
letter, and yet my paper is quite full. 

" Remember me to our dear Nesbit, if he is still with 
you. The same post that brought your last, gave me the 
delightful news of another added to our little band of 
Christian missionaries, our much respected Rentoul. I 
have had a letter to-day from John Adam, making the 
very solemn proposal of joining him, in a mission to 
Madras, to leave this country in two years. Pray for my 
direction. We return to Dysart in the middle of next 
month, to be there for some time. I am glad of this, for 
here I am alone as to Christian intercourse. If I were 
actively employed in the service of the Lord, I think I 
could be happy in a desert ; but here I do little or nothing. 
In study, I have done a little ; I have read the first book 
of Samuel in Hebrew; three books of the Anabasis of 
Xenophon, which seems to throw some light on the style 
of the New Testament. In Theology, I have studied 
Paley's Evidences pretty carefully, and Bishop Lowth's 
Prelections. I have nearly finished Dr. Pye Smith's 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQTJHART. 217 

Scripture Testimony to the Messiah (a most interesting 
work, which I beg earnestly to recommend to your perusal), 
and have just commenced Mosheim's Church History. 
It is late, but I can scarcely give over writing/ ' 

His friend, Mr. Herbert Smith, having proposed to him 
to assist, and co-operate with him, in some plans of use- 
fulness which he was pursuing, it produced the following 
letter in reply : — 

"Tennoch Side, August 30, 1826. 
" My Dear Friend — If I have delayed a few days in 
answering your very interesting letter, you can easily guess 
the reason. Your proposal demanded consideration and 
prayer. Did I mate my own feelings the standard of my 
conduct, I should, in all probability, without hesitation, 
have answered your kind proposal with a hearty affirma- 
tive. Two circumstances, in my present situation, have 
contributed not a little to depress my spirits, the want of 
Christian society, and an exclusion from active exertion 
in the cause of the gospel. You can conceive then, how 
delightful to my imagination was the picture of a truly 
Christian companion, co-operating with me in acts of evan- 
gelical usefulness, and exciting me to more zealous exer- 
tion. Were inclination my guide, then, you see how 
gladly I should have embraced your kind offer. But this 
would have been wrong. In forming any plan, we must 
not calculate on our own enjoyment merely. The Chris- 
tian must look to higher objects. His question must be. 
'Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?' On considering 
the matter, therefore, in this light, I feel constrained, (in 
spite of my own longings to comply,) for the present at 
19 



218 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

least, to decline personally co-operating in your interesting 
scheme. The difference of our religious sentiments, in a 
few points, has not influenced me in the slightest degree 
in my decision, except in the single point that it occurred 
to me, that the fact not of my being, but of my being called 
a Dissenter, might probably impede, more than your liber- 
ality may allow you to suspect, the promotion of a plan, 
which, from its very nature, must depend a good deal for 
its success, on the co-operation of churchmen of all descrip- 
tions. Had I thought of accepting, this must have made 
me hesitate ; but as it is, other reasons have determined 
my opinion, that it is my duty to remain in Scotland for 
some little time. 

" There is a sort of understanding, (although no positive 
agreement,) that I remain in Colonel Morland's family for 
a year. I have now been nearly four months. Here I 
have only one pupil ; and, of course, much time for study, 
which I think invaluable, as I know not how soon my 
opportunities of study may be past. I am particularly 
anxious to study closely the original Scriptures, in case 
of being employed in the very responsible work of trans- 
lation. This reconciles me to a retirement from active 
exertion in the meantime, although even in that point, I 
hope to be able to do a little in the neighbouring cottages. 
I should feel it cowardly to fly from a station where God 
has placed me in his providence, perhaps from some 
gracious purpose, merely because it deprives me of some 
pleasures, for which the Lord himself knows well how to 
compensate. The soldier in the camp must not murmur, 
because he wants the comforts of domestic happiness. To 
all human appearance, indeed, there is little prospect of 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 219 

my doing anything here, to promote the knowledge of the 
truth, except through my pupil. 

" On the subject of missions, every prayer strengthens 
my purpose. I am aware of the glare of romance, which 
fancy may throw round the idea of Christian expeditions 
to foreign lands ; but I have tried to make due allowance 
for this, and have prayed that a youthful imagination, 
might not lead me astray. The result is, I am every day 
more and more convinced, that my convictions in regard 
to this matter, are founded on Scripture. It is impossible, 
within the limits of a single sheet, to state the grounds of 
these convictions. I have written something on the sub- 
ject, which I may, perhaps, have some opportunity of 
communicating to you in one shape or other. I have taken 
medical advice, and am told, that my constitution is more 
likely to stand in a warm climate, than if it were more 
robust ; but no definite opinion can be given on the subject. 
The same post which brought yours, brought a letter from 
our friend John Adam, announcing his intention of going 
to Madras in two years, and asking me to accompany him. 
This is at present under consideration, and my decision 
may affect my more immediate plans. My present plans 
are, if the Lord will, to remain here till May or June next 
year, and then pay a farewell visit to my dear relations, 
before leaving them for ever in this life. It is a long time 
to look forward to next summer ; but should you continue 
where you are, and think I could at all assist you, I may 
then, by the divine blessing on my studies, be able to give 
more efficient assistance for a month or two. In the 
meantime, I shall pray for your success, and perhaps you 
will have the kindness to let me hear soon how matters 
prosper." 



220 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

Various friends interested in the religious welfare of 
Ireland, having requested him to take its claims on him- 
self into consideration, he wrote the following letter to the 
llev. John Burnet, of Cork, which I insert, not only as a 
part of his history, but to show the comprehensive views 
he could take of a subject, and how deeply he interested 
himself in everything which related to the kingdom of 
Christ : — 

" Tennocu Side. 

" My Dear Sir — I have had but a short notice of this 
opportunity of sending. The following are the queries that 
occur to me at the moment : — 

u 1. What is the proportion of professed Protestants to 
Roman Catholics ; and what the state of religious know- 
ledge and practice among the former ? 

" 2. What the proportion of evangelical ministers in the 
Church of Ireland? 

" 3. What the number and character of Protestant Dis- 
senting ministers ? I include Presbyterians of course. 

" 4. Are any Itinerancies undertaken by resident Irish 
ministers, and to what extent ? 

" 5. What is the number and character of the Hibernian 
Society's Agents ? Are the readers also preachers, or are 
they all pious men ? Of course, you understand me to 
mean, as far as our imperfect judgment can decide. 

" 6. What is the number of the Hibernian Society's 
schools, and how taught ? Are the schoolmasters under- 
stood to be pious men ? Is religious instruction the pro- 
fessed object of these schools, or only common education ? 
" 7. Does the Hibernian Society support any preachers ; 
and if so, how many ? Are the tivo you mentioned, their 
agents ? 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 221 

" 8. Do the people manifest a willingness to hear ? 
And can you allude, in general terms, to the success that 
has attended the efforts already made ? 

" These queries will, at least, show you, my dear sir, 
how ignorant, perhaps how criminally ignorant I am, of 
the state of the interesting country in which you labour. 
I could multiply more inquiries, of a similar description ; 
but I think, under these, you may arrange any informa- 
tion your time may permit you to communicate. If any- 
thing else should be suggested by these, and your engage- 
ments permit, you will have the goodness to mention it. 
I should be glad to hear arguments too, if any particularly 
present themselves. I promise solemnly to consider the 
matter before the Lord, and to lay it before such of my 
companions, as I think, might be fitted for the work. In 
the meantime, I honestly acknowledge to you, that I feel 
the claims of other parts of the world to be stronger. I 
trust my only wish is to know the will of God in this mat- 
ter. I feel my ignorance and incapacity to judge, but he 
leadeth the blind by a way they know not. When you 
see Captain Felix, have the kindness to give him my re- 
spects. Excuse this very hurried letter, as it gets late. 
The Lord bless you in your labour s." 

While this letter shows his willingness to submit to 
whatever might appear to be the will of God in regard to 
the field of labour ; it still discovers how much his heart 
was set upon the great object to which his life had been 
devoted. In the letter which follows, to Mr. Adam, he 
gives full scope to his feelings, and refers again to the 
difficulty of obtaining the consent of his friends. 
19* 



222 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

"Dysart House, September 17, 1826. 

"My very Dear John — I dare say you expected an 
answer to your interesting letter long ere now, and have 
been attributing my silence to my wonted carelessness. 
But in truth, this is not the case. I was cheered with the 
prospect of a short visit to Perth, soon after receiving 
yours, and I thought it better to defer writing till I should 
know the mind of my friends concerning your very import- 
ant proposal. My own opinion, excepting in so far as 
that of my friends and other circumstances might affect it, 
was fixed almost as soon as I read your letter. With a 
deep and increasing conviction of the duty of going to the 
heathen, and with a strong impression of the advantage, 
and in my case, almost the necessity of a known and tried 
companion ; this latter circumstance, seemed to me of 
itself, sufficient to turn my attention to a portion of the 
missionary field, of which, I confess, I had never before 
seriously thought. The language of Ruth to Naomi, is 
the sincere expression of my feelings, when I read your 
proposal. But notwithstanding this, I do not yet feel 
quite at liberty to seal the contract, as you express it. 

"On consulting my friends I was astonished to find 
them even more opposed than before. There seemed to 
be even some disappointment, that I had not, by this 
time abandoned the idea of being a missionary altogether. 
Had the impulse on my mind been a mere boyish fancy, 
in all probability, this would have been the case, exposed 
as I have been to influences altogether unfavourable. But 
I trust there is no enthusiasm in supposing, that the im- 
pression has been made by the Spirit of God, when time 
and meditation and prayer, make it deeper and deeper. 
Still my relations are quite against my views. The first 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 223 

argument is weakness of constitution. Most unfortunately 
I happened to have a little cold on this visit home ; and 
you remember I was rather unwell when you were with us. 
These trifling circumstances make my friends feel more 
confident in their argument. I confess that I have felt 
the force of this objection very strongly ; but, after due 
consideration, it does not seem to me sufficiently strong 
to warrant the plea of inability to enter on missionary 
work. I consulted the physician of Colonel Morland's regi- 
ment on the subject. His opinion quite coincided with what 
I had often heard before — that no physician could predict 
how any particular constitution would suit a hot climate ; 
but, in general, persons of a thin spare habit were more 
likely to stand, than those who were stouter. This argu- 
ment, you see, then, I could get over, but there is yet an- 
other, which my parents have strongly urged, and which 
is of so painful a nature, that were you not my most 
intimate friend, I should not lay it before you. 

5}C *j€ 5|C 5jC Jfi. 5{C 

I confess that, all along, it has weighed deeply with me, 
and has produced a greater willingness to submit to the 
wish of my friends, in putting off, for a little, the final 
decision. But we must not be distrustful. All things are 
possible with God. How far ought these circumstances 
to weigh with me ? I confess, they make me hesitate to 
give you a decided answer, which else I should do, with all 
my heart, in the affirmative.' ' 

The last letter which I received from him, was dated 
September. In this letter, he expresses himself with his 
accustomed affection, and unbosoms to me all his anxieties. 
Part of it, as well as of the preceding letter, I am obliged to 



224 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART; 

withhold, from motives of delicacy, though it relates to 
his chief difficulty in accomplishing the acquiescence of his 
parents in his leaving this country. 

'* Dysart House, September, 1826. 

" My very dear Sir — I know, that of late, the fatigues 
and anxieties of public business must have pressed on you 
with more than ordinary severity ; and when at home, a 
few days ago, I heard that in addition to this, you had 
been visited with bodily distress. In these circumstances, 
it may seem presumptuous in me to encroach on your time 
and attention, but I trust you will forgive me. Though 
circumstances have separated both of us from the place 
where I was wont to look up to you as my pastor, where 
our family regarded you as one of their most intimate and 
most highly valued friends ; yet I cannot help feeling, as 
if these close and endearing relations subsisted between us 
still. When in perplexity how to act, my mind involun- 
tarily turns to you as the person most fit to direct me ; 
and when any affliction distresses our family, I still seem 
to feel that we have a claim upon your sympathy, even 
though I know that you are surrounded by so many, who 
have now stronger claims upon your affection and your 
friendship. It may be wrong to feel thus ; but if so, I 
must just repeat it — you will forgive me. 

" When I wrote last to you, I had the intention of offer- 
ing myself to the London Missionary Society this summer. 
The only impediment was the opposition of my friends. 
I had already refused a good situation, without consulting 
my father. He was rather displeased. On the offer of a 
second, I thought it right to submit to his decision. His 
letter desiring me to accept, and your answer to my last 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 225 

letter, came by the same post. I was a good deal per- 
plexed ; but at last, against my own inclination, I sub- 
mitted to parental authority. I thought this acquiescence 
might reconcile my parents to my ultimate design, which 
I still kept steadily in view. In this I am disappointed. 
They seem to have expected that time and new scenes of 
life would efface the impression. On a visit home, last 
week, I found their opposition to my leaving this country 
more determined than before. * * * 

" I will never cease to hope, I will never cease to pray. 
These are calamities, which my remaining in this country 
cannot alleviate, and yet they unnerve all my fortitude in 
the view of parting. Tell me how far you think this try- 
ing dispensation of Providenee ought to weigh with me. 
Mr. Adam writes me, that he thinks of offering himself to 
the London Society, with a view to a station at Madras. 
I know the directors do not give the young men their 
choice as to the station they are to occupy ; and, indeed, 
it would be wrong to do so. I trust I am ready to go to 
any part of the world, where they think I may be most 
useful ; but still I feel that the presence of a tried and 
beloved friend would be a mighty stimulus to exertion, 
and a great solace in trials. He talks of going in two 
years. Did the directors agree to such an arrangement, 
when should I be required to come before them ? In my pre- 
sent situation, I have only one pupil, so that I have a few 
hours for study. I have applied pretty diligently to 
Hebrew this summer ; and have studied carefully, Paley's 
Evidences, Dr. Pye Smith's Scripture Testimony, Bishop 
Lowth's Prelections. I go on with Mosheim's Church 
History, and Home's Introduction. We are, at present, 
at the Earl of Rosslyn's house here, where we shall con- 



226 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

tinue three or four weeks. I cannot tell what my plans are 
at present. I am quite confused. I think I shall stay- 
over the winter, at all events, in this family, unless the 
Lord, by the indications of his providence, seem to point 
out some other path. I find Lord Rosslyn exceedingly 
kind and attentive. I trust, the peep I have had at the 
pomp and luxury of the world, have tended to convince 
me more decidedly, that it is an unsatisfying portion. My 
pupil gives me great satisfaction. He has a very good 
mind. He is only ten years of age, and yet enters with 
delight into the study of astronomy ; philology he is also 
very fond of. I have conscientiously taught him the doc- 
trines of the gospel. His judgment approves them ; and 
sometimes I have thought his heart was impressed. If 
the Lord choose him for himself, he may be eminently 
useful in the Church. His talents, and family connections, 
open the way to very high stations." 

He refers in this letter to his reading, of his diligence 
in which, abundant evidence remains among his papers. 
Besides attention to the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures, 
and to his classical reading, he abridged during this summer 
and autumn, with great accuracy, Home's Introduction, 
Paley's Evidences, Dr. Smith's Scripture Testimony to 
the Messiah, and Mosheim's Ecclesiastical History. That 
he was not inattentive to other things, is very evident from 
his letters. 

In consequence of this letter, I wrote to his father some 
time after, urging the necessity of no longer opposing a 
desire which seemed so evidently of God, and pointing 
out the consequences of persisting in resistance. I be- 
lieve this, and other things, contributed to produce the 



MEMOIR OF JOHN TTRQUHART. 227 

desired effect ; and John was satisfied, that when the time 
came, he would no longer meet with opposition from his 
parents. It is gratifying to me to be able to state this ; 
as it must be a source of satisfaction to them now, to re- 
flect that their resistance could have had little or no 
influence on the cause of his early removal. My answer to 
this letter, which was delayed in expectation of hearing 
from his father, he never received. It was written the 
day on which he died, and was received in Glasgow on the 
day of his funeral. A few more letters and papers will 
conduct us towards the closing scene. 

" Dtsart House, September 28, 1826. 

"My very dear Friekd — I am covered with shame 
on reading your very kind letter, and especially on observ- 
ing its date. I will make no apology, but simply beg you 
to forgive me, and not to attribute my carelessness to 
want of affection, or even to forgetfulness of one of my 
dearest friends, and most highly esteemed companions. 

" Your letter was, indeed, a refreshing one. Affliction 
is a blessing ; and, I doubt not, that on looking back on 
the late trying dispensation of the Lord towards your 
family, you feel it good for you to have been afflicted. 
Your letter found me grovelling in the dust, wrapt in 
selfishness, and sunk in depression ; brooding over my 
own vileness, and mourning the loss of privileges I had 
never deserved ; yet, regardless of the inestimable bless- 
ings which still remained. Such a letter was quite the 
i»edicine for my distempered mind. I forgot myself in 
sympathizing with your affliction ; and the deep impression 
which a near view of eternity had made upon you, was, I 
trust, in some degree communicated to myself. how 



228 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

difficult to keep up a rational conviction of the relation 
between time and eternity ! How does our practice give 
the lie to our profession ! 

" 29th. I have been here a fortnight, and am likely to 
remain a fortnight longer, for which I am truly thankful. 
Here I am surrounded with Christian friends ; and the 
value of such a privilege I feel more than ever, since I 
have had some experience of its loss. There is, indeed, 
an inexpressible heaviness in having no one like-minded. 
I have temptations here too, but I trust the Lord will 
uphold me. I am a good deal alone ; but I must mingle 
a little with the society here; and to one accustomed to 
move in the humblest walks of life, the drawing-room of a 
peer is not the place to learn humility, or to be more 
deeply impressed with the realities of an unseen world. 
Yet, I trust, this peep at the luxury and pomp of the world 
may be sanctified to me. In what very trifling do the 
votaries of fashion spend a life, w T hich must determine their 
condition in that eternal state, into which time soon will usher 
them ! Surely, man at his best estate, is altogether vanity. 
I have just come from the sick bed of one of the servants, 
who has been ill since I was here last. He is in a very 
interesting state ; and, I trust has found comfort in look- 
ing to Jesus. I am anxious to hear of your brother's 
parish. I trust the Lord causes his work to prosper. I 
know you have been active in assisting him. Tell me the 
nature of your exertions. Herbert Smith was to begin, 
when I heard from him, meetings like ours in St. An- 
drew's. Henry Craik and John Brown have commenced 
them in Exeter. Did you see Henry before he left ? You 
know he succeeded Nesbit, who will be in Edinburgh soon. 
John Adam means to go to Madras, probably in two 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 229 

years. He proposes that I accompany him. I am in 
considerable perplexity how to determine. Pray for me, 
that I may not be left to do my own will. Perhaps you 
know that W. Alexander, and W. Scott Moncrieff, return 
to St. Andrew's this winter. What are your plans ? 

" I have been a good deal depressed at the thought of 
my uselessness. I have done little to promote the glory 
of God this summer ; and in study, I have effected very 
little. My pupil gives me encouragement. I trust his 
mind is pretty thoroughly imbued with those precious 
truths, of which I found him very ignorant. At times he 
has seemed affected. The Lord deepen and preserve these 
impressions. Last Saturday night, I was much interested 
and affected by what he said. In the middle of our usual 
exercise, he stopped, and said very earnestly, 'Eternity!' 
Mr. Urquhart, ' eternity ! I have had a thought of that 
which I never had before.' Unwilling to interrupt his 
feelings, I paused, and fixing his eyes on the fire, he said, 
in a little, with a tone of deep earnestness : ' Well, I 
never was impressed till now with the necessity of believ- 
ing immediately on the Lord Jesus Christ/ Such im- 
pressions may wear off; but I trust they will return. I 
am not without the hope, that the Lord may raise up this 
child to be eminently useful in his church. He is a very 
original thinker, and pursues science and literature with 
an ardor that is not common at so early an age. I am 
not sure whether to address to Edinburgh or Kirkliston. 
I enclose this to our mutual friend, W. Scott, who will 
know where to find you. Write soon, and be particular 
in telling your doings and your plans, to your ever 
affectionate," &c. 
20 



230 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

"Bysart House, October 9, 1826. 
"My very dear Sister — I have been long expecting 
to hear how my father arrived, &c. And I suppose, from 
this long silence, you expect me to write first. I do not 
remember what arrangements my father made about writ- 
ing, when I saw him ; but I certainly had the impression, 
that, as I had more to excite anxiety than you, I had the 
best claim to have my anxiety first relieved. How did my 
father arrive ? How are you all, in regard to health, &c. 
How is David, the person about whom I am most anxious ? 
These and a thousand other such questions, I should like 
much to have answered. I beg that a letter may be sent 
soon, as, for aught I know, we may leave Dysart in a few 
days. I was much pleased with your letter, my dear 
Anne, and hope for a frequent renewal of the pleasure I 
have in hearing from you. You ask me to write to you 
about religion, and I believe the request proceeds from 
your heart : for, I cannot think you would allow any mo- 
tive whatever to make you trifle with sincerity on a subject 
of infinite importance. You know the absolute necessity 
of decision in this matter. Persons of amiable dispositions 
are apt to be moulded into the sentiments of those around 
them, almost without the consciousness that the opinions 
they have adopted are not their own, and have never had 
any solid foundation in their own judgment ; and, pro- 
bably, have never made any serious impression on their 
own heart. We must think and feel for ourselves, as 
every one of us shall have to answer for himself to God. 
I have nothing new to write you, my dear sister, on the 
subject of religion. All my little experience of a deceit- 
ful world, and a still more deceitful heart, tends only to 
confirm me in the belief of those grand truths, which the 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 231 

Lord has permitted us to know from infancy. "When the 
heart is overwhelmed with guilt, there is nothing can give 
comfort, but the consideration, that Christ has made a full 
atonement ; and the repeated declarations of Scripture, 
that, if we believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be 
saved. The gospel cannot be believed, till we feel that we 
are guilty. It is one thing to think of the death of Christ, 
when we have no apprehensions about our state in a future 
world ; and a very different thing indeed to catch a glimpse 
of this way of escape, when justice has shut up every other 
avenue, and the wrath of God seems ready to burst upon 
the soul, which feels itself to be accursed. Aye, then we 
can estimate, in some degree the value of a pardon, which 
the Son of God had to leave heaven to procure ; we can 
then tell something of what is meant by having peace with 
God ; we experience the blessedness ' of the man whose 
iniquities are pardoned.' Now this guilt and exposure to 
the wrath of God, is not an imaginary case, into the belief 
of which we may work ourselves. It is the plain matter 
of fact. The Bible describes it most plainly, as the state 
of every son and daughter of Adam. Why then will we 
shut our eyes to it, and rest secure and contented, without 
applying to the remedy that has been provided ? 

"It is the great evil in letter-writing, that we can 
scarcely enter on a subject, when we are compelled to 
leave it. Nothing worth notice has occurred since my 
father was here. I have seen a little more of the folly of 
the world, and have experienced more of the weakness and 
worthlessness of my own heart. I have written to John 
Adam, about Madras, but have not yet received an 
answer." 



232 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

" Tennoch Side, October 26, 1826. 
"My dear Sister — I believe you owe me a letter; 
but as I am not very punctual in paying my debts in that 
way in general, it may perhaps atone for some long de- 
layed epistle, to have sent one, at least, before it was due. 
I often think that my letters are too abstract to interest 
you, and that this discourages you from writing freely to 
me. I have seen parts of the country you have never 
visited, and have sometimes thought of sending you some 
descriptions of scenery, fee. But really, I have no head 
for description. Trees, and fields, and rivers occur every- 
where ; and were I to tell you what I have seen in that 
way, it would only recall the scenes you yourself are 
familiar with ; for I have not the tact of classifying and 
arranging these elements of natural description, so as to 
form any distinct picture of a particular landscape. But 
I have made a journey lately, where there were no trees, 
no fields ; there was a river, indeed, beside us, but fish 
never swam in it ; and in the air, far around, a bird had 
never been known to fly. After this mysterious intro- 
duction, I feel obliged to apologize for my subject. But 
after all, I can assure you, though you may hear people 
talk with great contempt of a coal-pit, you may travel 
many a mile in this world of light and sunshine, without 
seeing anything half so wonderful as the coal mines at 
Dysart. But this I should have left you to guess, after 
my description ; for I fear, after having said so, I shall 
fail to make you think as I say. Well, to fall upon the 
subject, without further preface. Having made an en- 
gagement, the day before, with my good friend, Mr. Bar- 
clay, who conducts the work, and who promised to equip 
me for the expedition, I repaired to his house early after 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 233 

breakfast. I found only one dress had been procured, 
which they insisted on giving to me. I wish you had seen 
us as we set out. You can fancy my slender body, wrapt 
in a sailor's jacket and trowsers, which had been made for 
a stout man, and crowned with an immense old hat, which 
had an irresistible tendency to rest upon my shoulders. 
After half an hour's walk in this fantastic attire, during 
which time I afforded some merriment to the natives, and 
felt now and then a little hesitation on the subject of per- 
sonal identity, we reached the place of descent. It is a 
perpendicular shaft, with a wooden partition^in the middle, 
reaching to the bottom. On one side of this partition are 
placed short wooden ladders, in a zig-zag direction, from 
top to bottom of the pit. Having each lighted his candle, 
we addressed ourselves to the work of descending, and 
were right glad, after some fatigue, and no little wariness, 
to find that we had reached the bottom. At this spot, we 
were about half a mile from the shaft where the coals are 
taken up. Mr. Barclay led the way, with a lantern, and 
after we had followed for some time, we began to perceive 
that we had entered a spacious gallery, the roof about 
twelve feet high. By the glimmer of our candles on the 
right hand, the wall seemed to be solid, but on the left, 
now and then appeared a spacious gloomy cavern, which 
seemed to turn at right angles to the route we were pur- 
suing, but how far we could not tell ; all beyond a few 
yards, was covered with an impenetrable darkness. To 
let you know more than I did, when surveying these 
gloomy regions, we were walking in what miners call the 
level, which is excavated in a horizontal direction, (as its 
name imports) in a line at right angles to the direction 
which the stratum dips. In this way, a level channel is 
20* 



234 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

obtained for the water that accumulates, without passing 
from the vein of coal, which you will easily perceive, could 
not be accomplished by running a mine in any other direc- 
tion. In that case, if you follow the coal, you must 
descend with the stratum ; if you keep a level, you leave 
the coal. The caverns on our left hand, were the work- 
ings, which are always wrought upwards ; hence we had 
none on our right hand. On this side a river flowed, 
which was supplied by tributary streams, that issued from 
the caverns I have attempted to describe, or sometimes by 
a water-fall, w&ere the roof had given way. Hitherto the 
murmur of the stream had alone broken the dreary stillness 
of these caverns, and the feeble rays of our candles had 
only made visible the darkness they could not dissipate ; 
but now other sounds and sights began to burst upon us ; 
a fire was seen blazing in the distance, and a number of 
motley faces, which still preserved some colours that could 
reflect the light, (reflected by nothing else,) danced and 
gleamed before us like the figures in a magic-lantern. The 
clanking of chains, and the trampling of horses, were now 
distinctly heard ; and a hollow sound, as of distant thunder, 
grumbled through the subterranean vaults, as the loaded 
baskets (I might almost call them wagons) were dragged 
along. We had now, in fact, arrived at the pit, where the 
coals are raised by a steam engine ; and by that time, I 
was as much tired with my walk, as I now am in describ- 
ing it. We had not yet travelled over half the ground ; 
but as the rest of our journey was more expeditious, I 
hope to make the description more brief. A train of 
empty baskets were ready to move, in which we made 
very comfortable seats of straw. Our horse was harnessed, 
our lights adjusted, and in a few minutes we started at 



MEMOIR OF JOHX URQUHART. 233 

full trot to explore the yet unseen recesses of this endless 
labyrinth. What we saw here, was just what we had seen 
before, till we arrived, after travelling another mile, at the 
place where the men "were at work. Here the air was 
very close, from the smoke of their lamps, and we were 
glad to make our way back on loaded baskets, though 
contrary to the laws of those realms. We took no candles 
in returning, as a lamp is attached to each train of 
baskets. Bv accident this onlv remaining light went out 
about the middle of our journey, and we were left in dark- 
ness, of which those above ground can form no conception. 
Our horse continued to canter along, as if nothing had 
happened, at a rate that made it a little difficult for me to 
keep my seat. In some time, a twinkling lamp again 
appeared in the distance, on passing which, things went 
on as before. The baskets we travelled in, are set on 
wheels, which move on a railway. The horses are in excel- 
lent condition, and have very good stables in the mine. 
They never see the light of day, from the time they are 
first lowered down. Of our return, I need not describe 
further. 

;, VThen you have read the above confused description, 
read the twenty-eighth chapter of Job, and tell me if it 
does not throw some light on the sublime description there. 
If not, I have failed to represent to you what I have seen. 
Man can, indeed, do much : but, after all, his power is 
limited. He can put forth his hand upon the rocks, and 
overturn the mountains by the roots. He can cut out 
rivers among the rocks : he can bind the flood from over- 
flowing. His eye seeth every precious thing, and the 
thing that is hid. he bringeth forth to light. But where 
shall wisdom be found? God alone knoweth the way 



236 MEMOIR OF JOHN TJRQUHART. 

thereof; and 0, let us thank him with our whole hearts, 
that what human skill could never have discovered, he 
has freely made known to us by the gospel. Man can 
6 bore the solid earth ;' but the depth, saith of this wisdom, 
' It is not in me.' Man can fathom the ocean and explore 
its hidden caverns ; but the sea saith, 4 It is not with me.' In 
what a pitiable condition is man, with all his boasted wis- 
dom, without divine revelation. how thankful then should 
we be, that this precious gift, the gift of heavenly wisdom, 
is freely offered to all ! It is easily accessible to every 
individual. No careful and laborious search is to be made, 
ere we can discover it; no difficult task to be performed, 
ere we can deserve it. i Say not then in thine heart,' &c. 
(Read the passage, Rom. x. 8 ; and the parallel verses, 
Deut. xxx. 11 - 15.) 

" Let us embrace with eagerness and joy, the precious 
truths that God has revealed to us. Pardon and recon- 
ciliation, and spiritual renovation, are the gifts that are 
offered. They are not to be compared in value to any 
earthly thing. They have been purchased by the blood 
of Christ, and are offered to us for nothing. let us not 
then despise or neglect these invaluable gifts, which the 
possession of a thousand worlds could not enable us to 
purchase !" 

"Dysart House, October 13, 1826. 

"My dear Trail — Perhaps I should have written 
sooner, but I trust you will not attribute this delay* to 
want of affection. I have really nothing particular to 
communicate, except my very sincere thanks for your truly 
kind and refreshing letter. I trust this will find you a 
preacher of the gospel, and I am sure, if once all external 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 237 

barriers are removed ; the state of those around you, will 
constrain you to be instant in season, and out of season. You 
mention having heard from our dear friend Adam ; and I 
suppose, he addressed you on the subject which has taken 
possession of his whole soul. Have you been thinking 
more of the missionary work ? I feel the argument for 
personal engagement every day more strong; and if there 
are times when I have a longing persuasion that it may 
be my duty to remain at home, they are times when the 
chilling influence of the world has cooled every holy affec- 
tion. This convinces me, more than anything, that the 
matter is of Grod. Did I tell you, that our friend, Ren- 
toul, has been so impressed with the duty of preaching to 
the heathen, as to have almost (I trust, by this time, alto- 
gether) decided on offering his services to the London 
Missionary Society ? Henry Craik has written me, since 
his arrival at Exeter, which place he seems to like very 
much. John Brown and he are making some exertion for 
the spiritual good of the people. 

" I had a letter from Mr. Adam yesterday, who seems 
to think of Madras as the place of his destination. I sup- 
pose he had begun to study Sanscrit when he wrote to 
you. He goes on with it. I could have wished much to 
accompany John Adam, but many circumstances seem to 
demand a considerable delay on my part. May the Lord 
make me submissive. I know his ways are the best. 
Generally on looking back, we can see that every step we 
took was necessary for our welfare, although when we 
took these steps, all was darkness and perplexity ; ' The 
Lord leadeth the blind by a way that they know not.' It 
is a privilege even to be blind, if we have such a Leader. 
Since we came here, the Earl of Rosslyn's family have 



238 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

been all at home, and there has been a good deal of com- 
pany. Lord Loughborough, Lord Rosslyn's son, was mar- 
ried last Tuesday. 

" I feel that the near approach of rank and fashion has 
a strong, though almost imperceptible influence, in super- 
inducing a spirit of worldliness. Every new scene that 
opens to me convinces me that the world in which we live 
is more dangerous than ever I imagined, and every new 
temptation shows me that my strength is utter weakness. 
How difficult to learn the lesson of our own utter worth- 
lessness ! Experience alone can teach it. that we may 
be enabled to look more simply to Christ alone ! In him 
we are complete. Through Christ strengthening us we 
can do all things. I thank you for your kind present, 
and for your still kinder advices. Pray for me, that the 
Lord would uphold me ; for I feel that I walk on slippery 
places. Nesbit will be in Edinburgh soon. W. S. Mon- 
crieff, and W. Alexander, my old companions, are the only 
persons I know going to St. Andrew's. 

" I hope they will be strenuous in their exertions. We 
return soon to the neighbourhood of Glasgow, where I ex- 
pect to spend the winter.' ' 

" Dysart House, October 16, 1826. 
" My very dear Friend — I have just been conning 
over your very interesting letter, by way of foraging for 
my own pen, for I fear this will be a very barren and un- 
interesting letter. Every line of your epistle is filled with 
what is interesting, so that I scarcely know what to allude 
to first. The first thing that strikes me is, that the date 
of this letter is exactly a month later than yours, which 
was the time fixed for our dear Nesbit's leaving you. I 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 239 

trust lie has left you, else I shall be denied the pleasure 
of an interview with him, as I pass through Edinburgh 
for Tennoch Side, the end of this week. But, by the way, 
when your letter was written you did not know I had left 
that part of the country. It is now about five weeks, 
since Colonel Morland's family came to Dysart, and on 
leaving our former residence, I was permitted to pay a 
visit to Perth, which was doubly sweet to me, from having 
been removed for a time from all who were like-minded. 
One thing I was much disappointed in, my parents showed 
a more determined opposition than ever to my going to 
the heathen. I had hoped that, by this time, they would 
have been quite reconciled, and I had formed my plans 
accordingly. I have now no plan. I am waiting till the 
Lord, by his providence, point out the way to me. Even 
my dear John Adam recommends delay in my circum- 
stances. I fear he must leave me behind him, for I sup- 
pose, to be qualified to go with him even as an assistant, 
I should require to be in London immediately. But it is 
well that we should have our plans frustrated. God has 
marked out the way for us already, and it is very pre- 
sumptuous in us to try to mark it out for ourselves. I 
feel that the present is very apt to be overlooked, in lay- 
ing schemes for the future, and the opportunities of use- 
fulness that daily present themselves, are apt to be 
neglected in the imagination of still more favourable 
opportunities that are to come. This is evidently a device 
of Satan's. How many precepts have we in Scripture to 
guard us against delusion ! 

" Since I have been here, I have seen a good deal of 
what is called the world. Lord Rosslyn's family has been 
at home, and there has been a good deal of company. 



240 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQTJHART. 

There is a fascination about rank, and fashion, and gaiety, 
and splendor, which has an almost imperceptible influence 
even on the heart that is conscious of their utter vanity. 
The smile of the world is more dangerous than its frown ; 
and the kindness and attention of those who are called 
great, have a strong tendency to lead away from the sim- 
plicity that is in Christ. This I have, in some degree, 
experienced. 

" I do not know whether I ever wrote anything about 
my pupil. He is a boy of a very affectionate and amiable 
disposition : and if I am not mistaken, he has an intellect 
of no ordinary cast. But he has been quite spoiled, he 
has never been accustomed to obey anybody, and has 
never been punished for a fault. Of course, you can see, 
in such a case, I have a good deal to try me, but yet I 
have encouragement too. He has been several times a 
good deal impressed with the doctrines of the gospel, and 
though these impressions may wear off again, at present 
they give encouragement to hope and pray, that the heart 
which has been influenced by them, may be, sooner or 
later, entirely subjugated to the Lord. I rejoice to hear 
of your exertion in your neighbourhood. Persevere, my 
dear friend. I mean to renew my efforts to have a meet- 
ing near Tennoch Side. Give my affectionate regards to 
John Brown. I am glad to know, that, practically, he 
has given up his peculiar tenets. I am not in a condition 
for writing on Mr.. Grove's pamphlet at present, as it is 
some time since I read it, and I have not a copy here with 
me. I feel in a very peculiar manner towards Mr. Grove, 
though I have never seen him. I would travel a good 
way to meet with him. Give him my respectful and affec- 
tionate compliments. I will not send any expression of 



MEMOIR OF JOHN UEQUHART. 241 

affectionate regard for my dear Nesbit, for I indulge a 
hope of seeing him in Edinburgh. I like the general out- 
line of the Hamiltonian System very much. I have 
adopted it so far in Hebrew, as to take all the assistance 
I can from our English translation, at the same time 
examining the grammatical structure of each word. Pray 
for me, my dear brother. I have need of your prayers, 
for I am in a very cold and lifeless state. Ever, my 
dearest Henry, yours most affectionately." 

"Texxoch Side, November 16, 1826. 

" My dearest Friexd — For some time back, I have 
every day been thinking of answering your very kind 
letter. I had actually sat down some days ago, but find- 
ing I had nothing of importance to communicate, I felt 
unwilling to break, without a cause, upon your very valu- 
able time. But I cannot resist the pleasure of conversing 
with you for a little, for it is now some time since I have 
talked with a Christian friend. 

" You know I have been a wanderer since I wrote to 
you, and perhaps it may amuse you to give some account 
of myself ! But I have such a memory. I had forgot that 
I had written to you from Dysart. In passing through 
Edinburgh I saw Scott and Tait, and Alexander, of whom, 
the last alone has returned to St. Andrew's. I have 
heard that Rentoul intended going, but not from himself. 
Alas, poor St. Andrew's ! I am anxiously expecting a 
letter from Alexander. Craik left Edinburgh without 
giving any account of the Missionary Society's book, which 
he had as secretary ; and I had great difficulty in compel- 
ling Alexander to write about it. By the way, I have 
heard Duff is returned. I trust he will be staunch and 
21 



242 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

zealous. I mean to write to him soon. Since I am in the 
way of giving news, I may mention, that I had a letter the 
other day from our old friend Hoby, accusing both your- 
self and me of not writing. He has ' pitched his tent,' as 
he expresses it, at Weymouth, being disappointed in his 
attempt to find a settlement near the Metropolis. His 
letter breathes a strong missionary spirit. l It is impossi- 
ble,' he says, 'to think of going now ; but would to God I 
could find a more extended sphere of usefulness among 
the heathen, than I am likely to find here.' This, in part, 
I do not quite understand, for it would appear, that there 
is abundance of work at home, for those who cannot go to 
heathen countries. 

" I am back to my hermitage, and have been here for 
three weeks. All around is more dreary now than ever ; 
and, in other respects, external circumstances are no 
better than they were, and yet I know nothing of that 
strange dejection which pressed so heavy on me before. 
I wish you would destroy anything I wrote to you then ; 
as, if I wrote as I felt, I must have appeared to you little 
other than a fool or a madman. I cannot help thinking, 
on looking back, that I was afflicted with a lighter species 
of the most dreadful malady that can visit a rational being. 
I do in earnest thank the Lord that I now enjoy not only 
health of body, but that littled valued, but highly precious 
blessing, soundness of mind. I cannot say that the advice 
of your last letter did not damp me a little. But you are 
right, I must wait till the Lord direct me. If you must 
go without me, I think I can bear it. All my experience 
tells me that I want a tried friend to lean upon, (a 
sentiment by the way, which you strangely misinterpreted 
in a letter to Scott ;) and such I hoped you might be to 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 243 

me. But I see my error, I must lean upon Christ. I am 
more convinced than ever that happiness depends little on 
what is without. 0, for a closer walk with God ! for this 
alone, in any circumstances, can give true enjoyment. I 
have seen a good deal of the gaiety of the world since I 
saw you. It is all vanity. I have learned that lords and 
ladies are just men and women. It is probable that we 
return to Lord Rosslyn's at Christmas, to remain some 
time, so you see I am quite a pilgrim. ' We have no abid- 
ing city here.' That reminds me of a delightful month 
at Homerton, and of many a change since.' ' 

" Tennoch Side, November, 1826. 
" My dear Friend — I trust you continue to enjoy, in 
some degree, the measure of health and freedom from 
pain, which you did when I last had the pleasure of see- 
ing you. But the uncomfortable weather we have had for 
some time, almost forbids me to think so. Whichever 
way it is, I know that you refer it to the Lord, who doth 
all things well. It is in kindness that he afflicts, and it 
is in kindness too, that he sometimes gives a short respite 
from suffering. Perhaps it is in such seasons that the 
benefit of affliction is most felt. In the midst of severe 
distress, the most serene mind must be agitated ; and it is 
difficult to feel that the Lord afflicts, because he loves us. 
In such circumstances David was beginning to fear that 
the Lord had forsaken him ; it was only by escaping from 
himself, as it were, that he could find comfort. ' This is 
my infirmity,' said he, ' I will remember the years of the 
right hand of the Most High;' or, as some translate it, 
c the change of the right hand of the Most High,' that is, 
his varied dispensations, in dealing with his people. But 



244 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

when severer suffering is for a while removed, there is 
often a holy calmness that pervades the soul, and the re- 
maining affliction, instead of ruffling the mind as before, 
has a soothing influence ; and, like the exercise of fasting, 
melts the whole soul into willing submission to the divine 
will. It is with bodily affliction, in some respects, as it is 
with the diseases of the mind — 

" When the wounds of woe are healing, 
When the heart is all resigned, — 
'Tis the solemn feast of feeling, 
'Tis the Sabbath of the mind/ 

" This sacred repose I am sure you have often felt, and 
have thought the trouble well worth the bearing, which 
yielded such peaceable fruits. Such seasons are the 
earnests of that rest which remaineth for the people of God. 
It is an acquiescence in the divine will that causes this 
holy calm within the breast. How sweet and sacred must 
that rest be, which remaineth for us ! Then all the dis- 
pensations of God will have wrought together in produc- 
ing perfect resignation to the will of our Heavenly Father. 
Surely this must be perfect peace. Let us welcome, then, 
all that fits us for such a state of holy enjoyment. All 
things work together for our good. You will excuse me 
for writing on a subject of which I may be supposed to 
know little. True, I have had little bodily affliction ; but 
I have not lived eighteen years in such a world, without 
tasting the bitterness of sorrow. You know some trials 
that have pressed heavily upon me. You have been long 
severely afflicted, and if anything I can write can suggest 
any consolation, I shall esteem it a high honour to have 
been permitted to minister to one of the saints." 



MEMOIR OF JOHN UEQUHART. 245 

11 Tbnnoch Side, November 30, 1826. 
"My dear Trail — The important subject of your 
letter has been much in my thoughts, and often in my 
prayers since I received it. I have felt a reluctance to 
write, from a feeling of the deep responsibility of influencing 
you in so momentous a matter, and from a consciousness 
of utter unfitness for the task you impose on me. On 
many accounts I am not the person to advise you. The 
book of Providence is often difficult to interpret, and I 
will not pretend to offer an opinion on the particular 
passage of it, you have laid before me in your own history. 
We do well to remember, however, that the devil can 
quote from this declaration of the divine will, as well as 
from his written word, to give effect and plausibility to his 
temptations. Perhaps we can never be sure that we inter- 
pret the divine Providence aright, in deciding a doubtful 
question of duty, except when the mind has been duly ex- 
ercised by prayer, in regard to the subject connected with 
the particular event, or chain of events under considera- 
tion. If the mind thus prepared has a particular bent, 
which is favoured or not opposed by external circumstances, 
I think in such a case we have rational grounds for sup- 
posing that prayer has been answered, and the desired 
_ direction has been given. Since supernatural communica- 
tions have ceased, I see not how prayer can be otherwise 
answered. And there is no scope for the working of 
enthusiasm in obeying this inward impulse, when we limit 
it by the declarations of Scripture, and confine it to those 
points of conduct which as you observe, are left undeter- 
mined by the sacred word. This is the course you have 
pursued, I doubt not. It is the course I have tried to 
pursue. The Lord will direct us, my dear Trail. He 
21* 



246 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQCJHART. 

who has made the path plain hitherto, will direct us still. 
I am tired of laying plans, they have been so often frus- 
trated. After all, I see that I have been ever too anxious 
about the future, and all such anxiety is useless, for the 
Lord will lead the blind by a way that they know not. 

"My views with regard to missions are still much the 
same. The gospel is for mankind, for the world ; and 
why should one little island contain nearly all the messen- 
gers of peace ? The little success in some parts is no dis- 
couragement, nor does it even show that men had run 
where they were not sent. Remember the first attempts 
in Otaheite. Consider the continent of Asia. John Adam 
remains in London, preparing, I suppose, for India. I 
say nothing of Rentoul, as I hope you have met him at 
St. Andrew's ; if so, remember me very affectionately to 
him, also to Duff, and W. Alexander. Craik and Brown 
remain in Exeter. I have not yet heard of Nesbit's 
arrival in Scotland. I am anxious to hear how matters go 
on in St. Andrew's this winter." 

He wrote, in the month of November, a paper on 
*' Fiction as a Medium of Religious Instruction," which 
was inserted in the Christian Herald, a periodical work, 
published in Edinburgh.* 

* See Appendix M. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 247 



CHAPTER VI. 

The commencement of his last illness — Extract from his Journal — 
Letter to Mr. Tate — Letter to Mr. Craik — Letter to his father — 
Letter from Mr. Ewing to his father — Letter from Mrs. Ewing 
to the same — Letter from Mrs. Ewing, giving an account of his 
illness and death — Letter from Miss Cathcart on the same subject 
— His death — Letter from Dr. Chalmers to his father — Lines 
addressed to John by a friend — Concluding observations on his 
character and death. 

The time now drew nigh, when my beloved friend was 
to be removed from this delusive and suffering world, to 
the ' unsuffering kingdom' of his adorable Lord. For that 
state of ineffable bliss, he had been for a considerable time 
preparing, under the discipline of Providence, and the 
sanctifying grace of the Redeemer. In knowledge, he 
had far outstripped his equals of his own age ; in zeal and 
devotedness, he occupied the front rank of a chosen band 
of youthful associates ; and in the feelings and exercises 
of humility, he lay lower than the lowest. The measure 
of his spiritual stature was now completed, and the full 
reward of glory was made ready for him, by Him whom 
he loved. I feel myself incapable of describing the clos- 
ing scenes, and shall therefore leave them, in a great 
measure to be told by others. 

From a child, he gave evidence of possessing a constitu- 
tion of peculiar delicacy, which was, therefore, liable 
to be affected, both mentally and physically, by many 
causes, which do not operate powerfully on persons of a 



248 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

robust and hardy temperament. The symptoms of a mor- 
bid depression, which appeared during the summer of 1826, 
were only, I apprehend, the harbingers of the fatal attack, 
by which he was appointed to be removed from this world. 
I fear it was not discovered in time, that the brain was the 
origin of his complaints ; the intense and unceasing action 
of the mind, proving too powerful for his delicate bodily 
frame. In the mysterious arrangements of Providence, it 
would seem, that whatever arrives very early at perfection, 
is destined to be soon cut off. Premature growth is gene- 
rally followed by a premature end. The case of Urquhart 
is very similar to those of Durant and Kirke White ; and 
the inimitably beautiful lines which Lord Byron applies 
to the latter, are, I conceive, equally applicable to my 
young friend. It is singular, that the passage to which I 
refer, was transcribed by him into a scrap-book, entitled, 
"Extracts in Poetry, from various authors,' ' only a short 
time before his death. 



" Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, 
When Science' self destroyed her favourite son ! 
Yes ! she too much indulged thy fond pursuit, 
She sowed the seeds, but death has reaped the fruit. 
'Twas thine own genius gave the fatal blow, 
And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low. 
So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain, 
No more through rolling clouds to soar again, 
Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, 
And winged the shaft which quivered in his heart. 
Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel, 
He nursed the pinion, which impelled the steel : 
While the same plumage that had warmed his nest, 
Drank the last life drop of his bleeding breast. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 249 

The last entry in his journal describes the commence- 
ment of the attack, which terminated his earthly career, 
and gives a most delightful view of the state of his mind. 
" The ruling passion," his devoted attachment to the mis- 
sionary cause, appears strong even in death. To be with- 
drawn from this work was the only thing which excited 
his regret, or extorted the expression of painful feeling; 
yet, even in regard to that, his mind appeared perfectly 
subdued. 

" December, 1826. 

" Wednesday l&tJi. — An excessive languor and weak- 
ness has prevented me from studying regularly this week. 
Had a long conversation with the gardener, last night, 
whom I find to be a very shrewd man. He is quite a 
Scotchman. The contrast, in point* of intellect, and ac- 
quired knowledge, between him and the English servants 
in the family, is very striking. Yet they have travelled a 
good deal, and have nearly one-third of the day at their 
own disposal. His knowledge has been picked up in his 
own cottage, and those around it. He argues well on the 
doctrines of Christianity ; but, I fear, as is the case, alas ! 
with many of our countrymen, the head is engaged more 
than the heart. 

" 14:th. Rose to-day at a quarter to eight. Read half 
a chapter of the Greek Testament. Second chapter of 
Joshua in Hebrew. Dr. Cokely called to-day, and pro- 
nounces my illness an affection of the liver. This has dis- 
tressed me a good deal, as it may unfit me for the East, 
w T hich I have long contemplated as the scene of my labours. 
But the Lord knows what is best. If he hedge up the 
w T ay, I may not walk in it. I would not, if I might. 



250 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

I begin a course of medicine on Friday, which, I pray God 
may bless, for the restoration of my health ; that my body 
may be fitted for his service. If this be not his will, I 
know, that the destruction of this body will perfect the 
soul, and fit it for a higher, and a holier service, in the 
heavenly temple. 

" '0 most delightful hour by man 
Experienced here below; 
That hour which terminates his span, 
His sorrow and his woe.' 

" 14:th. Not so weak this morning, but able to accom- 
plish little in the way of study. Prepared and attended 
my meeting. This is always a refreshment. I was en- 
abled to speak with earnestness and feeling on the mercy 
and the justice of our God. My breathing a good deal 
affected to-night in walking. Though the night is wet, I 
feel better since I have been out." 

How delightful it is to find, that to the very last, he 
laboured in his Master's service, and seemed to derive 
fresh strength from doing the will of God. 

To his friend Tate, he wrote the following interesting 
letter, on the 19th of December : — 

" Tennoch Side, December 19, 1826. 
" My dear Brother — This world, through which we 
are passing, is a desert, and no wonder that its dreariness 
should depress our spirits. Our souls too are suffering 
under a loathsome disease ; and if we are sensible of its 
loathsomeness, no wonder that we sometimes abhor our 
ownselves. But the desert through which we travel, leads 



MEMOIR OF JOHN ITHQUHART. 251 

to our home, and we have an all powerful remedy for the 
disease that preys upon our souls. True, sin will strug- 
gle on, and the old man will fight for the mastery, as long 
as he may, but we shall soon leave the wilderness, and all 
its sufferings, behind us. Strange that we should ever 
wish to linger. You remember that beautiful hymn ; — 

' ' There is a land of pure delight, 
"Where saints immortal reign ; 
Infinite day excludes the night, 
And pleasures banish pain. 

There everlasting spring abides, 

And never-withering flowers : 
Death, like a narrow sea, divides, 

This heavenly land from ours. 

Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood 

Stand dressed in living green : 
So to the Jews old Canaan stood, 

While Jordan rolled between. 

But timorous mortals start and shrink 

To cross this narrow sea, 
And linger, shivering on the brink, 

And fear to launch away. 

Could we but climb where Moses stood ; 

And view the landscape o'er; 
Not Jordan's stream, — nor death's cold flood, 

Should fright us from the shore.' 

" I had a letter from our dear Craik, a few days before 
I received your last. He talks of being a missionary. 
Brown and he think of Ireland. I should think them well 
fitted for debate, especially Henry. I fear some one must 
be found to supply my place among the number of in- 



252 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

tending missionaries. You know that I have not been bent 
from what I thought the course of duty, by the arguments 
of men ; but now God has spoken in a way which I 
think, (but I am not sure,) is decisive. I have been sickly 
for some weeks, and it turns out to be inflammation of the 
liver. I have been taking the usual course of mercurial 
pills for some days, and the Doctor orders the side to be 
blistered to-morrow. I wished to write before I am quite 
laid up, chiefly to request you to tell me all about St. 
Andrew's when you return. I hoped to have visited it 
soon, but the Lord has determined otherwise. Pray for 
me, that whether death or life be in this cup, the Lord 
may enable me to drink it with cheerfulness. Remember 
that I am literally in a land of strangers. Not a single 
Christian friend to whisper consolation, none to whom I 
can pour forth the feelings of my soul. Remember me 
very affectionately to my dear Rentoul, in whom I feel a 
very peculiar interest. My old companion, William Adam, 
I expected to have heard from. I have others, in my 
mind, but I am wearied. My chief pain is in my right 
arm and side. Do not speak of my illness at St. Andrew's, 
as the report might reach home, and I have not yet 
written.'' 

Whether the means resorted to, were those best suited 
to his case, I pretend not to say ; but while a partial re- 
covery was effected, the disease would seem still to have 
gone on. To his esteemed friend, Craik, at Exeter, he 
wrote at different times, the following letter : — 

" Tennoch Side, December, 1826. 
I have to thank you, my dear brother, for two affection- 
ate letters, since I wrote last. Your last was a letter of 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 253 

mourning, and yet it refreshed me much, and comforted 
me. It was but a day or two after, that I had a letter 
from our dear friend Tait, breathing the same strain of 
lamentation for worldliness, and panting after a closer 
walk with God. We are all one family, my brother, and 
what wonder that the feelings of our hearts are one, while 
banished from our home, and wandering amid dangers, 
fighting with powerful enemies, and surrounded by strang- 
ers who know us not, or who know us only to hate us. 
But let us take courage. ' The night is far spent, the 
day is at hand.' Weeping may endure for a night; but 
joy will come in the morning. It is not always by light, 
and faith, and joy, that the Lord answers prayer for 
spirituality of mind. There is great truth in that hymn 
of Newton's, — 

" ' I asked the Lord that I might grow 
In faith, and love, and every grace; 
Might more of his salvation know, 
And seek more earnestly his face. 

I hoped that in some favoured hour, 

At once he'd answer my request ; 
And by his love's constraining power, 

Subdue my sins and give me rest. 

Instead of this, he made me feel 

The hidden evils of my heart ; 
And let the angry powers of hell 

Assault my soul in every part. 

Lord, why is this? I trembling cried ; 

Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death ? 
' "lis in this way/ the Lord replied, 

I answer prayer for grace and faith. 

22 



254 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

These inward trials I employ, 

From self and pride to set thee free; 

And break thy schemes of earthly joy, 
That thou may'st seek thy all in me/ 

" Why does God leave us so long in a world of sin ? 
Why were his ancient people forty years in travelling 
through the wilderness ? Why are we exposed to so many 
temptations ? It is because he will not only deliver us, 
but will show us the horror of that state, from which we 
have been delivered. And the more we know of our own 
vileness, shall not our praise be the louder, when we join 
in that glorious anthem, ' Unto him that loved us ?' 

"I have been a mourner too. New circumstances have 
presented new temptations, and the Lord has shown me 
my utter weakness. Once, I thought my heart could not 
be viler than I knew it to be ; but God has led me, as he 
did his prophet of old, from one scene of iniquity to an- 
other ; and when I have thought that now I have seen all, 
he has opened some secret place within my breast, and 
showed me c greater abominations still/ Nor am I sure, 
that I know yet the depths of iniquity that are within me. 
How easy to pass among men as pious and holy ! They 
compare themselves among themselves. You talk about 
passing the Rubicon, my dear brother. The river of 
death is the Eubicon. Not till we have passed it, shall we 
be completely freed from the world, and from its cares. 
I say this, because I remember feeling, as I think you do. 
I thought, did I decidedly give up the hope of worldly 
honours and comforts, by deciding on the missionary life, 
I should no more be harassed by the cares, or allured by 
the vanities of earth. But it is not 20. To think much 
of the Saviour is the only way to be made like him. I 



MEMOIR OF J II X UEQUHART. 255 

like much your plan regarding Ireland. I do think your 
talents, and also those of our friend Brown, are quite of a 
cast for it. It has been urged much upon me, but you 
know well I am not the person for such a scene. You ask 
me concerning my plans. I have no plan at present. If 
Colonel Moreland goes to Edinburgh in April, I may pro- 
bably stay a little longer with him. Some information I 
got to-day, has distressed me a good deal, as it makes me 
fear that I shall never be fit for a warm climate. I have 
been drooping and sickly for some weeks. To-day, the 
doctor has come from Glasgow, and pronounces my illness 
an affection of the liver. He thinks there is no inflamma- 
tion, and that a course of medicine will remove this attack. 
I am able to go about, though not very fit for study, and 
have merely a slight pain, like rheumatism, in my arm 
and side. Rentoul, Alexander, Duff, and Trail, are in 
St. Andrew's. From John Adam, I have not heard since 
I wrote you. My meeting here is confined to young peo- 
ple, thirteen or fourteen attend. There is no village. 
They come from scattered cottages. Of course, I do not 
preach, I talk to them. My meeting with them always 
refreshes and invigorates me. We go, perhaps, to Dysart, 
at Christmas. I may, perhaps, have an opportunity of 
visiting St. Andrew's." 

" This is Christmas-day, and it is well for me the family 
have not moved. John Adam has written me lately ; he 
is well, and goes on with his plan of preaching occa- 
sionally. 

" The other part of this letter was written a consider- 
able time ago ; but I thought it better, since I had men- 
tioned my illness, not to send it off, till I should see what 



256 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

the issue might be. Decided symptoms of inflammation 
soon appeared ; but I am glad to say, that the Lord has 
blessed the means employed to remove the disease. At 
least, we think so at present. You must excuse me for 
not writing more, as I am excessively weak. I have ate 
very little, and have been allowed to eat nothing nourish- 
ing for some time. Add to this, that I have had a good 
deal of medicine, and a blister on my side, and you will 
not wonder that I am much reduced. I can add no more 
at present, but that I am ever your friend and brother in 
the strongest bonds.' ' 

The last letter he wrote was to his father, though the 
painful event that so soon followed, was then little an- 
ticipated. 

"Tennoch Side, December 27, 1826. 
"My dear Father — Christmas is past, and I am 
afraid you will be expecting me. This is the reason, I 
suppose, that my many letters have produced no answers. 
The family do not go to Dysart ; and, in my present cir- 
cumstances, that has been a great blessing to me. I may 
venture to tell you, now that I am better, that I have had 
rather a serious illness, inflammation of the liver. I had 
been very weak for some time, loathing food, and op- 
pressed with a pain in my arm and side, which I called 
rheumatism. Mrs. Moreland had the kindness to send for 
the doctor of the regiment, who prescribed great absti- 
nence ; the blue pill to be taken every night ; and, lastly, 
a large blister for the right side. It has pleased God to 
bless these means for the removal of the disease. Of 
course, I am very much reduced. I have been treated 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 257 

-with as mucli kindness as if I had been at home, by the 
house-keeper especially, who always dressed my blister, 
and watched me like a mother. I could not have looked 
for such kindness in a land of strangers. The Lord can 
raise up friends wherever we are ; but I have had no Chris- 
tian to whom I could open my heart. But the Lord is 
here. With love to all, I am ever your affectionate son." 

This letter was written when he must have been very 
ill, as he found it necessary to leave Colonel Moreland's 
on the second or third of January, with a view to return 
home. He got as far as Glasgow ; and, under the hospit- 
able roof of Mr. Ewing, received that kind welcome, 
which had invariably been shown him, from the first period 
of his acquaintance with that excellent family. The fol- 
lowing letters, addressed by Mr. and Mrs. Ewing, to his 
father, are important, as they show the progress of the 
complaint, the means which were employed to arrest it, 
and the deep interest which they took in the amiable 
sufferer. 

"Glasgow, January 5, 1827. 
" My dear Sir — I am sorry to inform you, that your 
son came to us two days ago, rather in a poor state 
of health. I suppose he must have informed you, some 
weeks ago, of his having pain in his side, for which the 
regimental surgeon, (who seems a very respectable man,) 
ordered a course of mercury; that is now finished, but 
seems to have reduced our young friend to a state of 
great weakness. Nevertheless the doctor says he sees 
no cause for alarm, as there is little or no fever in his 
pulse ; but there is no getting him to follow advice in 
22* 



258 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

taking his food. This the doctor thinks will prevent him 
from recovering strength till he can go home, which he 
thinks he may do, if he gets into the coach, and takes a 
little warm brandy and water once or twice on the road. 
At Tennoch Side, he became hypochondriac, and would eat 
nothing till it was out of season. We hoped he would 
have cheered up a little here, from conversation and 
nourishment ; but I am sorry to say we are disappointed. 
I think it my duty, therefore, to beg, that if possible, 
either you or his mother will come here in the beginning 
of the week, to endeavour to prevail with him to take 
nourishment, and to consult with his medical attendant 
what is best to be done. The doctor declares he sees 
nothing but the flatulency of an empty stomach that 
should prevent him from eating. After all, I shall not be 
surprised if he propose going to-morrow by the coach, for 
he did so last night, but not till the places had been all 
taken. Yet, if he persist in neglecting his food, he can- 
not get better. I grieve to write thus, but we are quite 
at a loss, for we cannot urge him ; and he does not appear 
to be at present a good judge in his own case. I am writ- 
ing without his knowledge, for when I proposed it before, 
he refused to let me." 

"Glasgow, January 5, 1827. 
" My dear Sir — Since writing to you in the forenoon., 
Mr. Ewing (who has been obliged to go to the church- 
meeting) thinks I should write to go by the seven o'clock 
coach, by which you might expect your son, to say he has 
never spoken of it again this day at all ; and that though 
his pulse is down, we do not think him better, and feel at 
a loss how to manage him. The doctor says he should 



MEMOIR OF JOHN UEQUHAKT. Zb\) 

not lie in bed, but we cannot persuade him to make any 
exertion. The doctor says he must eat, and it is almost 
by compulsion, and never but when one of us in a manner 
insists and holds it to him, that he takes anything. We 
hope, therefore, you will come, as the doctor assures us 
he is quite able for the journey. We should feel it quite 
distressing to let him go alone, and shall feel very anxious 
till you come. At the same time let me assure you, 
we have not concealed any circumstance from you. The 
doctor says his pulse is seventy-two only. He appears 
to me, as I have seen people, highly hysterical. We are 
sorry to give you all this anxiety, knowing what must be 
felt for such a son ; but we feel it a matter of duty, and 
doing as we would be done by. Lieutenant-Colonel More- 
land called to-day with the doctor ; all that family seem 
to have paid him uncommon attention.'' 

His father, it may be supposed, lost no time in proceed- 
ing to Glasgow ; but before he could reach it, the most 
melancholy progress had been made by the fatal disease. 
Other medical aid had been called in, and that which had 
been supposed to be an affection of the liver, was discov- 
ered to be an affection of the brain, on which an effusion 
had taken place, which accounts for the comatose state into 
which he had been sinking for some days, till at last it 
had deprived him of all consciousness, and left no hope of 
a recovery. 

My esteemed friend, Mrs. Ewing, who watched his 
dying bed with a mother's anxiety, has furnished me with 
a full and interesting account of his last days, which, to- 
gether with the additional information supplied by her 
valued relative Miss Cathcart, who also acted the part of 



260 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

a tender nurse, the reader I am sure, will be pleased to 
receive in their own words, although their letters contain 
a slight repetition in some particulars. 

" Glasgow, April, 7, 1827. 
" After Colonel Moreland's family returned at the end 
of October, I think from Lord Rosslyn's, young Urquhart 
was only one Sabbath with us, and then said he had been 
a good deal troubled with his stomach. When Dr. Marsh- 
man was here, I wrote to ask him to meet him at dinner. 
He wrote, I might guess his disappointment at not being 
able to come seven miles to see him, when he had gone 
to London to see Dr. Morrison. The surgeon of the 
cavalry told me he had had a threatening of inflammation 
of the liver, for which he had given him Dover's powders, 
and blue pill, but this Mr. Urquhart had mistaken for a 
course of mercury. He came in here on the Wednesday 
preceding the one on which he died, and seemed very 
weak and much worn out with the drive ; but told me he 
was now quite free of pain or complaint, except weakness 
and sickness when he took food. He said he had been so 
very ill, that though he never was insensible, he had felt 
•what he never had before, that he could not pronounce 
the words he wished to say. He appeared to me highly 
nervous, and till his illness took a more serious turn, I 
had the idea which the medical attendant confirmed, that 
it was a hysterical case, from weakness. Both the sur- 
geon and himself thought he was able for the journey to 
Perth, but he was persuaded to stop till the Friday, and 
take one day's rest. No ticket was to be had providen- 
tially for Friday : for we should have attributed his illness 
and death to the journey, had he gone. But it is very 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 261 

probable, though the ticket had been got he could not 
have been conveyed to the coach, as we could never get 
him to set up after the Thursday night ; though he told 
the doctor he was better, and that he had had five hours' 
sleep. His pulse also was better that day. That night, 
however, we thought him worse, and got a careful sick 
nurse, in whom we could confide, to be in his room all 
night. It was two next day when the surgeon called, 
and when I told him that he ate and drank what we gave 
him, but stared at us and did not speak, he left me ab- 
ruptly, and ran up to his room. I followed instantly, 
being alarmed, and on examining his eyes and trying him 
in every way to make him speak, he requested more assist- 
ance, and told us what the other medical man confirmed, 
that it was a very bad case of suffusion on the brain. 
His head was shaved, leeches applied, and then a large 
blister over his head, and one on his neck. He continued 
quite insensible that night and next morning, and the 
medical gentleman then thought it was hastening to a 
close. His father arrived at eleven, but John did not 
know him when first he came. When Mr. Ewing came in 
from the forenoon service, it struck me there was more 
intelligence in Mr. Urquhart's face, and I begged of him 
to come up and speak to him, and pray ; which, to gratify 
me he did, for he had no hope himself, thinking I fancied 
I saw what I so eagerly wished. Mr. Ewing spoke a few 
sentences on the hope of the gospel, as suited to one in 
the near prospect of death, and the glory, honour, and 
immortality, that were treasured up in heaven for those 
whose trust was in the Lord Jesus Christ ; and then 
prayed for him as seemingly near death. You may be- 
lieve I watched narrowly the effect of this, and observed 



262 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

him exceedingly agitated and affected. When Mr. Ewing 
finished, his hands, which he had not moved for many 
hours, I saw him endeavouring to disengage from the bed 
clothes, and therefore I raised the clothes ; when he 
stretched out his hand and pressed Mr. Ewing's, and 
smiled. Mr. Ewing said, 4 Do you know me V When he 
said, ' Do not I know Mr. Ewing V I went for his father, 
and he knew him and named him. After this he lay 
above an hour quite motionless, but apparently to me in 
meditation and prayer. At the end of that period, he 
observed and named me, and said, ' My mind is quite calm 
now/ I said, I trust your hope is fixed on the Rock of 
Ages. He three times replied in a most impressive way, 
' Yes ; my hope is fixed on the Mock of Ages.' I went on 
speaking for a little in the same way, saying. You will find 
it i a sure foundation ;' that Christ is able to save to the 
uttermost; that he is a very present help in trouble; that 
the hope set before us in his blessed gospel, is a glorious 
hope. His weakness seemed not to permit him to say 
much, but he repeated the emphatic words in each passage, 
in a tone of exultation I think I hear yet, and with a 
countenance beaming with delight. Knowing the state 
of insensibility from which he seemed newly recovered, I 
felt a kind of half fear at his only repeating what I said, 
and stopped ; when he went on himself with two or three 
passages, importing the full triumph of faith. But now I 
remember only one ; it was, 'I know that nothing shall 
separate me from the love of Grod, which is in Christ Jesus 
my Lord ; but it is impossible to convey an idea of the 
tone and manner. It made all in the room weep abun- 
dantly except myself; I was thankful I could command 
my feelings, on his account. We were not aware till 



MEMOIR OF JOHN UKQUHART. 263 

afterwards, that his lninci had, during the illness before 
Christmas, been extremely depressed ; and that it was on 
expressing that to his young friend, that the beautiful 
lines were sent that were something like prophetical of his 
state before death. I send you Jane's letter to Miss 
Young, which will supply anything else he said while able 
to speak. From that time till within an hour or two of 
his death, and long after he ceased to speak or see. when- 
ever he heard Mr. Ewing's voice, he ceased his moaning 
or laborious breathing, to listen ; or when any of us re- 
peated a passage of Scripture. When the medical men 
returned at four on Sabbath, expecting to find him very 
near a close of his sufferings, they were very much aston- 
ished at the change in his sight, and restored understand- 
ing and speech ; and though they would not say they could 
give lis hope, they said symptoms were better, and that 
lie must not be excited by speaking, but kept very quiet. 
This slight hope was kept up all Monday, and we went to 
bed that night (leaving two to watch him) with stronger 
hope ; but at four in the morning his attendants came for 
me on his being greatly worse. At four in the afternoon 
of Tuesday, he was increasingly worse, and then death 
was so evidently near, that both Miss Cathcart and I sat up 
till after four, when I was compelled to lie down for two 
hours, from worn-out strength. When I returned at six 
he was evidently weaker. His last hour was while we 
were at breakfast. Miss Cathcart would not leave the 
room, and I just entered it to see the last breath drawn 
by the dear young saint. 

" You will remember first introducing him to my hus- 
band, and I have often thought we owed to the fondness 
of that interview excited in both to each other, the honour 



264 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

God granted us of having him to minister to in his illness 
and death. He came first to this house when he arrived 
in Glasgow, and we secured by that, what any other family 
would have done, that he should always come to us ; and so 
eager were we to have him, that when Mr. and Mrs. Mathe- 
son and children were with us, after fixing we should ask 
a bed for him from our kind neighbour Mrs. Smith, we 
put up a bed for him in the little dressing-room. I send 
you the letters of Dr. Chalmers, and Mrs. Moreland, &c, 
and you know the universal testimony to his worth, and 
talents, and piety, and engaging manners. If there is 
anything further you wish on this subject that I can sup- 
ply, it will give me satisfaction. I cannot but hope the 
Lord will bless the memoir to many souls. Surely such a 
bright star has not, in the short space it was seen, re- 
flected all it was lighted up for, of the glory of God." 

The following is Miss Cathcart's letter, to which Mrs. 
Ewing refers : — 

" We have witnessed a very painful and solemn scene, 
in the death of that dear child of God. Mr. and Mrs. 
Ewing felt it an honour to administer to his comfort ; and 
it was a privilege to myself attending him, which I trust 
will benefit my own soul. Much mercy was mixed with 
the trying dispensation. It was most providential a ticket 
in the Perth coach could not be had ; and when Mr. Urqu- 
hart seemed to regret it, Mr. Ewing said there was a 
Providence in all these things ; in which he directly acqui- 
esced. In all his wanderings, not a murmur or complaint 
was heard. When he was collected and prayed aloud, it 
was most delightful to hear him pouring out his heart to 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHAKT. 265 

God in sucli humble and scriptural language. I wish the 
self-righteous had heard him declare that if he got where 
he deserved he would be in hell-fire, and that he had 
nothing to plead but the mercy of God, through the right- 
eousness of Christ. At times, when unable to speak, he 
appeared sensible, by the placid smile on his countenance. 
When Mr. Ewing was praying, and when he mentioned 
any of the cheering promises in the gospel to believers, 
Urquhart would say, 'Yes! yes!' with great emphasis. 
At one time when his poor father asked the state of his 
mind, he replied, 'in perfect peace, stayed on God,' and 
repeated a second time, 'stayed on God.' One morning 
he asked me if his father was up. I asked him if he wished 
to see him; he replied, 'Yes.' When he came he said, 
1 John, do you know your father V to which he replied, ' I 
know my father ;' and then Mr. Urquhart said, 'I hope 
you know your Father in heaven, who, I trust, has pre- 
pared a mansion for you.' I think the sweet youth said, 
' I believe there is.' At another time when nobody w T as 
in his sight, I heard him say, ' Come, Lord Jesus, come 
quickly/ When alone in his room, but not that he could 
see me, he said, ' Who is there?' I went to his bed-side, 
and said, Miss Cathcart, thinking he might not know my 
voice ; he replied, ' When did you come here V I said I 
have been with you all the time you have been ill here, 
and I feed you with what you eat ; he said, ' I am happy 
to have my friends with me.' I replied, you have a Friend 
who sticketh closer than a brother; 'Yes,' he added, 
c Jesus Christ is a friend who sticketh closer than a brother ; 
but all the Lord's people are interested in each other.' 
At times when we did not think he knew us, he showed 
us he did by naming us, or holding out his hand, and ex- 
23 



266 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUIIART. 

pressed anxiety for Mrs. Ewing fatiguing herself, by dif- 
ferent times saying, ' My beloved Mrs. Ewing, lie down 
beside me.' The most heart-rending scene I ever wit- 
nessed, was on the Tuesday night before his death. Mr. 
Urquhart came into the room, and at the bed-side gave 
up in prayer his son to the Lord, when all the yearning 
of the afflicted parent was expressed, and the submission 
of the Christian exemplified. Some present thought John 
sensible and agitated, but I was so much distressed myself 
that I did not observe. The poor father is much to be 
pitied, who says he has lost his child, son, friend, counsel- 
lor, and comforter. My friend Mrs. Smith's husband, 
told me he had never been at a funeral where such a feel- 
ing of regret was shown. The sick-nurse and the servants 
paid him the greatest attention, and many tears they shed 
for him. He told us how very kind Colonel and Mrs. 
Moreland had been to him ; also that the housekeeper had 
been quite like a mother to him during his illness.' ' 

His death took place on Wednesday, the 10th of Janu- 
ary, 1827, when he was only eighteen years and six 
months old. His career was short, but interesting, useful, 
and glorious. However mysterious it may appear to us, 
it was doubtless well with him ; and Christ, who was gain 
to him in life, proved to him gain in death also. His 
course was calm, holy, and consistent ; its termination was 
peaceful and happy, It was improved by Mr. Ewing, on 
the following Lord's day, from Psalm cxvi. 15. " Precious 
in the sight of the Lord, is the death of his saints." It 
produced, among many others, the following letter from 
Dr. Chalmers, to his father: — 



MEMOIR OF JOHN UEQUHART. 267 

" St. Andrew's, January 15, 1827. 

" My dear Sir — I cannot refrain from offering my con- 
dolence on the late melancholy bereavement, wherewith it 
hath pleased a mysterious Providence to visit you. I re- 
ceived the intelligence, by a letter from Mr. Ewing, which 
I circulated among the numerous friends and acquaint- 
ances of your son in this place. His death has created a 
great sensation among his fellow-students, by whom he 
was held in the highest reverence and regard ; which feel- 
ings were shared also by the Professors ; several of w T hom 
I heard expressing their utmost regret, and affirming him 
to be the most distinguished, in point of ability and good 
conduct, of all the disciples who ever attended them. I 
yesterday communicated the afflicting intelligence to the 
children of ray Sabbath-school. They both knew and 
loved him, he having taken charge of their religious in- 
struction for one session of College. They were evidently 
affected by the melancholy news. 

" To your Christian mind, there is a far richer consola- 
tion than that which is afforded by the report, or the re- 
membrance of his first-rate talents ; talents which would 
have raised him to the highest summits of learning and 
philosophy, had he not wished to consecrate them all to 
the service of his Redeemer. Tour best, and most pre- 
cious comforts, under this heavy dispensation, are to be 
drawn from the consideration of that faith, by which he 
was actuated ; of that grace which animated his heart and 
adorned his history ; of that glory, for the enjoyment of 
which he was so ripened and prepared ; in a word, of that 
promise, that they who sleep in Jesus, shall meet again in 
that country, where sorrow and separation are alike un- 
known. 



268 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

"Few parents are called to sustain so severe a loss as 
you have now done ; but with few, very few indeed, is the 
loss tempered by such precious alleviations. 
" I am, my dear sir, 

" Yours, with sympathy and regard, 
" Thomas Chalmers." 

The following lines addressed to him by one of his 
correspondents, were, indeed, sadly prophetical of the 
event which so soon after took place. They are simple, 
and beautifully descriptive of the feelings, not of the wri- 
ter only, but of his friend, and strikingly applicable to 
his last closing scene. 

2 Timothy iv. 6. 

" The Christian Pilgrim bid depart, 
Departs without a sigh, 
Fear can no longer chill his heart, 
Or sorrow dim his eye. 

In Heaven's own garments see him stand 

On death's much dreaded shore, 
He gazes on the promised land, 

And seems already o'er. 

We saw him oft betray a fear 

As near this flood he drew ; 
But now a willing pilgrim here, 

He kindles at the view. 

A ray hath broke from Canaan's land, 

Across that sullen flood : 
It bids him quit his mortal strand, 

And onward march to God. 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 269 

He marches on, for now his eye 

Hath lost life's lurid ray, 
As suns which quit a clouded sky 

To shine in brighter day. 

Oh could we catch a moment's view, 

Of what he now must know, 
Sorrow would fill our spirits too, 

To linger thus below." 

I feel as if I had now filled my allotted task ; and that 
it is better to draw this narrative to a close, than by 
attempting anything in the shape of character, to deprive 
the reader of the impression, which the facts themselves, 
and the concluding scene, are fitted to produce. But I 
cannot abstain from a few concluding observations. 

To me, the undertaking has been one of a very painful, 
and, at the same time, pleasing nature; partaking as 
much of the mixed feeling, which the poet describes, as 
"the joy of grief," as anything which has ever engaged 
my attention. How much I loved him, I have not ven- 
tured, nor will I now venture to express. That he was 
entitled to it all, and to more than all, I am well con- 
vinced. If I felt towards him all the affection of a father, 
he repaid it with all the tenderness and confidence of a 
son. I feel as if the world had become, by his death, less 
an object of interest to me than it was ; but I trust I have 
also been made to feel, in common with many of his 
devoted friends, that the attractions of a better world 
have been multiplied and strengthened, by his removal 
thither. 

Afraid to trust myself in describing his character and 
attainments, lest my personal feelings might be supposed 
23* 



270 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQTJHART. 

to have too powerfully influenced my judgment, I have 
interspersed the opinions and testimonies of others, with 
my own statements, and the papers of the deceased. 
These testimonies I have not nearly exhausted ; nor is it 
possible for me to convey an adequate idea of the extent 
to which he was beloved and admired by all who knew 
him. The sweetness of his natural disposition, and the 
bewitching simplicity of his manners ; the soundness of 
his judgment, and the fertility of his imagination ; the 
ardor of his pursuit of science and literature, with the 
variety and accuracy of his attainments, rendered him 
one of the most extraordinary individuals of his years. 
When with these, are combined his extensive knowledge 
of the mystery of redemption, and of the sacred volume ; 
his simplicity of aim, with the fixed and intense ardor of 
his zeal ; his love to the souls of others, which made him 
ready to lay his learning, his talents, his genius, and his 
life, at the foot of the cross, and to abandon the country 
where he might have shone and triumphed, for scenes of 
foreign labour and suffering ; the eminent spirituality of 
his mind, the consistency of deportment, and maturity of 
character and experience, at which he arrived, I need 
scarcely add, he presented an uncommonly rare assemblage 
of natural, acquired, and Christian excellencies. Of the 
truth of this representation, every reader has now been 
furnished with the means of judging for himself; and I 
safely leave with him the conclusion to be drawn. 

His Christian character is that on which the mind now 
reposes, with the greatest satisfaction. As it regards his 
other attainments, " literature has failed, tongues have 
ceased," and " knowledge has vanished away." What he 
was as a linguist, and a mathematician, might have been 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 271 

of importance, had he lived ; what he was as a believer in 
Jesus, is the only thing of importance to him now. He 
has attained to the perfect state, and experiences a high 
degree of that felicity, which he could so well describe, 
and which he so earnestly panted to enjoy. 

"If I might be allowed," says a correspondent, to 
whom one of his last letters was addressed, " to say any- 
thing, from the acquaintance I had with him — and there 
was scarce a day, last winter, in which I was not some 
time with him — I would say of him, as his biographer said 
of Henry Martyn, 'A more perfect Christian character I 
never knew.' Like Martyn, indeed, it might be said of 
him, ' His symmetry in the Christian stature, was as sur- 
prising as its height.' I never saw a finer example of 'a 
living sacrifice ;' he seemed, indeed, to reckon himself not 
his own, but bought with a price, and, as such, he was 
entirely devoted to the glory of God. Nor did he care 
what perils, or sufferings, he underwent, if so be that that 
object might be promoted. In this cause, even death did 
not appal him. I remember well, when he thought of 
China as a scene of missionary labour ; and when he was 
told that the government positively prohibited the mis- 
sionaries from preaching in that country, he said, he should 
conceive it his duty to transgress this prohibition ; and if 
his death was the consequence, let it be so ; the blood of 
a missionary sometimes advanced the cause, as much as 
his long life and labours. Think of such devotion in a 
youth of eighteen, whose rare talents and unquestioned 
Christian character, gave him the fairest prospect of use- 
fulness and comfort in his native land, while they would 
have infallibly secured to him the admiration and affection 



272 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 

of all who knew him. He was eminently spiritually- 
minded. No one ever felt more the burden of indwelling 
sin, and never did captive exile long more earnestly to be 
loosed, than he did for deliverance from its taint and its 
power. Hence he dwelt much on the holiness of heaven. 
It was the theme, he has often assured me, of his refresh- 
ing meditation, when his mind was depressed, as he looked 
forward to the perils, and sufferings, and privations, which 
he might be called to undergo in this world. I remember 
one day, while I was with him, his telling me, that while 
reading the Scriptures that morning, on this his favourite 
subject, his mind was so wrapt in contemplation, that he 
forgot, for the moment, where he was ; till, when his con- 
sciousness returned, on looking into his own heart, polluted 
with sin, and then into the world around him, l lying in 
the wicked one,' he burst into tears. He was possessed 
of much tenderness of spiritual feeling, and was most 
vividly impressed by every Scripture truth which he 
received. In one respect, much of the same mind dwelt 
in him, which was in Christ Jesus : he felt much for his 
brethren of mankind, and his heart bled for the condition 
of those who were not in Christ ; yet was he possessed 
with the keenest indignation at iniquity, and every exhi- 
bition of it provoked his holy abhorrence. His was a 
character most exquisitely formed for Christian friend- 
ship. Possessed naturally of the most amiable disposi- 
tions, they were rendered still more so by the Spirit of 
God which dwelt in him. In his friends, he encouraged 
the most unbounded confidence ; and his was a heart, into 
which, when distressed or disgusted, they could unbosom 
every thought which grieved them, and find a balsam for 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 273 

every wound. I speak not this at random. I know it 
from sweet experience." 

I cannot conclude the memoir of my beloved friend, 
without once more soliciting the attention of the reader 
to the prominent feature of his religion and of his reli- 
gious character, — his devoted zeal to the glory of Christ 
in combination with the salvation of men. It is obvious, 
that, to diffuse the knowledge of the gospel in the world, 
constituted his life and happiness. The subject pervades 
all his papers, runs through all his letters, and at length, 
entirely engrossed his thoughts. In his case, it was 
nothing assumed or professed, but something growing out 
of the very principles of his faith, and constituting a 
chief element in his religion. He had no conception of 
Christianity, apart from the love of extending it. That 
which constituted its glory, in his eyes, was its perfect 
adaptation to the wants and wretchedness of men ; and 
the more he knew the evil, and the better he became 
acquainted with the remedy, the more powerfully he felt 
the obligation to preach the gospel to every creature. 

His devotedness, therefore, was not so much an act of 
obedience to a law, as the operation of the great principle 
of the new economy, and of the new nature, love — grate- 
ful love to God, and compassionate love to men. Hence 
the calmness and rationality, as well as the ardour of his 
mind, in reference to this great subject. He did not re- 
gard himself as making an unreasonable sacrifice, though 
to certain consequences he was acutely sensible ; or as 
called to a work of a peculiar and unprecedented nature ; 
but merely as discharging a common obligation, and en- 
gaging in a service which ought, in one way or other, to 



274 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHAET. 

be attended to by every disciple of Jesus. He felt that 
much had been forgiven him, he therefore loved much. 
As he grew in spirituality of mind, he grew not only in 
deadness to the world, but in indifference to those literary 
and scientific pursuits in which he was so well qualified to 
excel, and in his admiration of the superior excellence of 
the knowledge of Christ Jesus his Lord. He despised them, 
not because he was ignorant of them, or because they 
were beyond his reach ; but after he had subdued the diffi- 
culties of the ascent, and had their loftiest summits full in 
view ! Even then, he did not disregard them as worthless, 
but as less worthy than another and a higher object. 
While the laurels, which he had so honourably won, were 
yet fresh and unwithered on his brow, he laid them at the 
foot of the cross, and with high Christian magnanimity 
declared, " that what things were gain to him, those he 
counted loss for Christ." 

When I speak of his indifference to the pursuits of 
philosophy, I mean not to say that he neglected the culti- 
vation of his mind, or that he turned aside from any of the 
paths of learning and science which he was capable of ex- 
ploring. I only mean to say that he pursued them no 
longer for their own sake, for the gratification which they 
afforded, or for the earthly rewards which they might have 
secured. They became subordinate, in his mind, to an 
ulterior object. In as far as they might fit him for more 
eminent usefulness, he considered them important, and 
studied them with diligence and unconquerable determi- 
nation. 

To the ardour of his spirit in the acquisition of the 
qualifications which he felt to be necessary for the ser- 
vice of Christ, and the intense working of his mind in 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHAET, 275 

regard to that service itself, I have no doubt he fell a 
sacrifice. Many an individual has been a martyr for 
Christ, who has not expired on a gibbet, or suffered at the 
stake. Zeal for the glory and the house of God is a con- 
suming principle. It burnt up the Saviour himself, and 
it has brought to a speedy termination the career of many 

O X mi %/ 

a disciple. Such, I feel assured, was the case of John 
Urquhart. His feelings became morbid ; but this was the 
result of weakness of body, rather than of any improper 
or undue exercise of the mind. The sensibilities of his 
nature vrere indeed refined and excited by his Christian 
principles, till they became too powerful for the bodily 
structure on which they operated. But this reflects no 
discredit on Christianity. It only illustrates the weakness 
of man, and the disproportion of his powers to the magni- 
tude and the lofty enterprise of the gospel. Granting 
that it killed the individual, it only follows, that the event 
is mysterious, not that a loss has been sustained. That 
the reward of the sufferer is secured, we have the best 
reason for believing : and that gain, rather than damage, 
may arise to the cause of the Saviour, eternity will enable 
us to discover. 

Did the present state terminate the being and the bliss 
of man, we might well be discouraged by the occurrence 
of such early deaths, from cultivating our intellectual 
faculties. The uncertainty of enjoying them for any 
length of time is so great, that the labour of the cultiva- 
tion might seem disproportioned to the result. But if all 
intellectual and moral worth shall find place and scope in 
the eternal world, the case is very different. lS"o mental 
attainment can be lost. The language and the literature, 
and the science of heaven may be different from all that 



276 MEMOIR OF JOHN URQXJHART. 

we have known on earth ; but the capacity which grasped 
the word and the works of God in this world, and which 
was improved by the influence which is from above, will 
operate in proportion to its strength and its spirituality 
on the things of eternity. 

If the reader is young, and enterprising ; if he possesses 
talents, and if those talents are cultivated ; let me submit 
to such an individual the consideration of the example, 
and the lessons recorded in these memoirs. I mean the 
example and the lesson of high devotedness. For what 
purpose has God endowed you with his gifts, and blessed 
you with his grace ? What is your proposed field of glory 
or enterprise ? Have you devoted your life and your 
talents to Christ, or to the business and the ambition of 
this world? Are you a Christian? Then is there one 
object placed before you, and one course marked out for 
you to follow. "None of us liveth to himself/ ' Every 
Christian is Christ's property and Christ's servant. The 
service of Christ, the glory of Christ, and the salvation 
of the world, are as much the interest of the weakest be- 
liever as they were that of the apostle Paul. Every Chris- 
tian owes his all to the Redeemer ; and Paul could owe no 
more. We may not be honoured to preach the gospel, or 
to die for the gospel ; but to live and die to Christ is the 
honour and privilege of all his saints. The life which is 
consecrated to his service, and the talents which are de- 
voted to his glory, will be found the happiest, and, in 
the end, the most productive. It may be short, it may be 
long, as the will of God shall determine ; that is not our 
concern, and ought not to cause our anxiety. But it 
ought to be our anxious and unceasing desire, that, 
" whether we live, we may live unto the Lord; or whether 



MEMOIR OF JOHN URQUHART. 277 

we die, we mar die unto the Lord : that, whether we live 
or die, we may be the Lord's." We are constantly re- 
minded, by the events which occur, of the truth of the 
Scriptures : "All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man 
as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the 
flower thereof falleth away." While these things humble 
us. and remind us of our sinfulness and our mortality, we 
still have hope. "We are cast down, but not destroyed; 
we are sorrowful, yet always rejoicing:" for, "while the 
world passeth away, and the lust thereof:" we know that 
"he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever." 



24 



APPENDIX. 



AN ESSAY ON THE NATURE AND DESIGN OF THE MISSION OP 
THE SAVIOUR ON EARTH. 

When - we look around us on the broad field of nature, and con- 
template the numberless beauties of the universe, we are struck 
with the great power and glory of God, as the Creator and Preserver 
of all things. 

When we turn over the page of history, and reflect on the ages 
that are past, and more especially when we trace the various wan- 
derings of the favoured descendants of Abraham, we are still more 
impressed with his goodness and wisdom as the God of providence. 

When we turn to the inspired volume, and behold the just and 
perfect nature of the law, which he has there announced to us, we 
are led to adore his perfect justice and holiness as the great Law- 
giver. 

From these sources we may deduce many of the attributes of God, 
and form some conception of his moral character ; but there is a 
darkness which envelopes it, which not one ray of mercy irradiates ; 
there is a cold gloom which hangs around it, and which is not 
enlivened by one spark of love. 

It is only through the atonement that we can behold him as the 
God of mercy ; it is here that he is emphatically styled the God of 
love. It is only as he appears in the person of the Saviour that we 
dare approach unto him ; it is only here that he condescends to be 
called "Immanuel, God with us." 

(279) 



280 APPENDIX. 

Here the darkness and uncertainty through which we viewed him, 
are dispelled, and life and immortality are brought to light by the 
gospel. Here mercy and truth meet together, righteousness and 
peace embrace each other. 

The nature and design of the wondrous scheme of redemption 
are beautifully and simply described to us by Jesus Christ himself, 
who tells us, that "God so loved the world, that he gave his only 
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but 
have everlasting life." 

Here man is represented as perishing ; for God gave his Son, that 
whosoever believeth in him should not perish; by which is evidently 
implied, that man, previously to his believing in the Son of God, is 
in a perishing condition. 

We would first then consider the perishing state of mankind which 
called for the intercession of the love of God ; and which is the state 
of every sinner before he believes in the Saviour. 

Here we would remark, that God did not create man in this per- 
ishing condition ; he brought it upon himself. In the beginning, 
God created man in his own image, that is, with a moral character 
in conformity with his own, with a heart pure and holy, and abhor- 
ring iniquity. In this state of holiness, and at that time when man 
was morally able to keep the commandments of an infinitely pure 
and just God, his Creator, as a pledge of his attachment to himself, 
desired him not to eat the fruit of a certain tree in the garden in 
which he had placed, him ; and at the same time warned him, in the 
most solemn manner, of the consequences of his disobedience. " In 
the day that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die." 

In defiance of this awful warning, the first of mankind put forth 
his hand and broke the commandment of that God who had bestowed 
upon him every blessing. In consequence of this transgression, a 
state of things took place, in which every descendant of Adam has 
been utterly unable to keep that law which God was pleased to reveal 
to them. This law is of necessity in accordance with God's own 
character, — perfect, — promising life to every one that abideth in all 
things that are written in it, to do them ; and at the same time de- 
claring, " The soul that sinneth it shall die." Such a law is the 
only one which could be given by a perfect God. Man had under- 
gone a change : he was now become unable to keep any of the com- 



MISSION OF THE SAVIOUR. 281 

mandments of the Lord ; but because man had fallen, the law of 
God was not to be suited to his depraved capacities. Such an adap- 
tation would have argued change in the Lawgiver, — in Him who 
knows no variableness nor shadow of turning. This law every 
individual of the human race has broken times and ways without 
number. AVe all, like lost sheep, have gone astray. All have sinned 
and come short of the glory of God. 

This, then, was the state of our fallen race; we had all broken 
God's law, and were exposed to its just condemnation. A holy God 
could not wink at sin, nor a just God forgive iniquity: — it behoved 
that satisfaction should be made, or that the whole human race 
should be given up to endless destruction. 

Such satisfaction man could not make ; he could not even perform 
his duty, much less atone for the sins he had committed. 

Xone of the blessed spirits before the throne could give for us the 
satisfaction required ; they were all bound, as well as we, to render 
perfect obedience for themselves at every moment of their existence, 
and could, therefore, perform no supererogatory duty to atone for 
the sins of others. Since then man had sinned, since he could render 
no satisfaction for himself, and since no created being, however 
exalted, could render it for him, there was but one alternative: it 
was necessary that the required satisfaction should be made by the 
Judge himself, or that man should be consigned to endless punish- 
ment. 

This is the condition alluded to in the passage we have quoted. 
It was when man was in this state, when he had made God his 
enemy by his multiplied transgressions, that that very God against 
whom he had offended, " so loved the world, that he gave his only 
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, 
but have everlasting life." Yes I at that very time when all that 
was dear to man seemed lost for ever, — when there seemed to be no 
way of escape, — when there was no eye to pity nor hand to help, 
— even then God said, "I have found a ransom." His eye pitied, 
and his right arm wrought salvation. Xo sooner had man fallen 
from his innocence, than God declared to him that " the seed of the 
woman should bruise the head of the serpent." This was the iirst 
of that lengthened series of prophecies regarding a future deliverer, 
which terminated in the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. It was 

24* 



282 APPENDIX. 

through faith in his name, as foretold in those prophecies, that the 
people of God were saved, who lived before his coming ; it is through 
faith in his name, as manifested in the gospel, that more sure word 
of prophecy with which we are favoured, that believers are saved 
now ; and through faith in his name also shall the elect be saved 
unto the latest generations. "For there is none other name under 
heaven, given among men, whereby we must be saved." 

The design of the mission of Jesus Christ, we conceive, consists 
chiefly in two things: — the one is usually denominated our justifi- 
cation, the other, our sanctification. The first of these consists in 
our freedom from wrath, as the punishment due to our sins ; being 
that part of the atonement which reconciles our forgiveness with 
God's justice, that through which he can be just and the justifier of 
.the sinner who believeth in Jesus. 

The second, or our sanctification, is that which fits us for enjoy- 
ing eternal life in the presence of God ; being that part of the scheme 
of redemption which reconciles our reception into favour, with God's 
holiness ; that through which he can be of purer eyes than to behold 
iniquity, and yet hold communion with the most polluted sinner who 
believeth in Jesus. 

We have already shown that no less a being than God could atone 
for sin ; but we must now remark that as man had sinned, so the 
law required that man should suffer. It was for this reason chiefly, 
we conceive, that our Saviour took not on him the nature of angels, 
but took upon him the seed of Abraham, being thus fitted in the 
estimation of the law to atone for the sins of man. Having there- 
fore in due time appeared in the flesh, and sojourned a considerable 
time on earth for an example to his followers ; the time drew nigh 
when the sentence of the law should be fulfilled in him who knew 
no sin ; when he, who was God over all, blessed for ever, and who 
thought it no robbery to be equal with the Father, should be made 
a curse for us. 

The sentence of the law was death ; it behoved therefore, that the 
substitute should bear that sentence, — and he did bear it in its full- 
est extent. He bore our sins in his own body on the tree, and thus 
magnified the law, and made it honourable. While hanging on the 
accursed cross, the Son of God exclaimed, " It is finished ; and he 
bowed his head, and gave up the ghost." Then was justice satisfied, — 



MISSION OF THE SAVIOUR. 283 

it had wreaked its vengeance on the person of our Surety ; and thus 
as many as believe in him, are saved from the wrath to come. 

While he thus obtained our justification on Calvary, our great 
Redeemer also made provision for our sanctification. While he was 
yet with his disciples on the earth, he promised to send to them 
"another Comforter, even the Spirit of truth." To sanctify the 
heart of the believer, and to assimilate his character to that of God, 
is the peculiar office of the Holy Spirit. Sanctification is not, like 
justification, attained at once; it is a progressive process. When a 
sinner believes in Jesus, his justification is completed, he is entirely 
freed from the punishment due to sin ; but he is then only partially 
freed from the influence of sin itself. The work of the Spirit is only 
begun in his heart. That work, however, will still go on ; day by 
day he will increase in love for holiness, and hatred of sin, though it 
will never be completed on this side of the grave. 

Such, we conceive, is the design of the gospel, and such the means 
employed to accomplish this design. We shall now attempt to show 
the fitness of the means for the end. 

We have already seen that the law was not adapted to the fallen 
state of man, nor indeed could be, so long as God was just; but 
" what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, 
God, sending his Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, con- 
demned sin in the flesh ; that the righteousness of the law might be ful- 
filled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit/' 

To man in his fallen and depraved state, the gospel is most admir- 
ably adapted. In calling upon a sinner, it does not address itself to 
his generous feelings ; it does not appeal to his gratitude, and say, 
" Can you any longer remain in disobedience to that God who has 
done so much for you?" " Can you any longer love sin, when you 
see its awful consequences in the death of the Redeemer?" The 
force of such language could only be felt by a renewed mind ; such 
language were addressed to an unregenerate sinner in vain. 

In his mind there is no generous feeling ; it is wholly selfish. In 
his mind there is no impression of the love of God ; there can, there- 
fore, be no corresponding emotion of gratitude. How then, does the 
gospel address him ? Is there yet any principle left in his depraved 
mind, which may be impressed by its declarations ? Yes, there is 
such a principle, it is this very selfishness by which we have charac- 
terized him, it is a love of self, a desire of self-preservation, a desire, 



284 APPENDIX. 

when he sees his danger, to escape from the wrath to come. "What 
shall I do to be saved V is the language of every sinner in this con- 
dition. It was for such characters that the gospel was intended, 
and it is to such that it holds forth its most gracious invitations. 
" Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." " Come 
unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you 
rest." 

If, through the blessing of the Holy Spirit, the sinner be led to 
this refuge, he immediately experiences a heavenly joy, a peace 
which the world knoweth not. To this joy succeeds love. His heart 
is now in some degree sanctified, and hence, he is in some degree 
capable of receiving impressions of holy love ; the emotion of grati- 
tude is excited in his bosom, and he loves in return. He feels that 
the debt of love which he owes is far greater than he can ever pay : 
and his language now is, " What can I do too much for him that 
died for me?' It is no longer a selfish principle which influences 
his conduct; he is now resolved to live not to himself but to Him 
who died for him, and who rose again. It is not now we apprehend 
merely through the fear of future punishment, or even through the 
hope of future reward, that he avoids sin, and follows after holiness. 
He has now acquired a new nature, which cannot take pleasure in 
iniquity. He is not indeed, freed from sin, for then he were per- 
fectly happy ; but it is now the object of his abhorrence, and he is 
looking anxiously forward to the time, when it shall no more break 
in upon his enjoyment. 

Thus we have attempted to give a cursory sketch of the nature and 
design of the mission of our Saviour ; we have endeavoured to show 
how he reconciled the forgiveness of sinners, and their reception into 
favour, with the justice and purity of the divine character; and also 
the fitness of the means employed for this purpose, and the wondrous 
change produced by them, upon the character of man. And now let 
the reader solemnly ask his own heart, "Am I a partaker of the 
mercy here exhibited?" "Have I been led to commit my soul to 
the keeping of Jesus ?" 

On the result of these questions depends our eternal happiness. 
And in this important inquiry let us not deceive ourselves ; "A tree 
is known by its fruits." If our character does not correspond with 
the precepts of the gospel, whatever we may think, we have not be- 
lieved it. And if we thus find that our belief has been merely nomi- 



MISSION OF THE SAVIOUR. 285 

nal, let us seek God before it be too late ; let us come to him in the 
way which he has appointed while it is called to-day ; let us recollect 
that " now is the accepted time, and now is the day of salvation." 
Let us remember that every moment we put off, our hearts are acquiring 
an additional degree of hardness ; and let us take warning from the 
declaration, that " He that being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, 
shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy." 

But, if we do experience something of that joy and love which the 
gospel describes, and have thus reason to think that we have believed 
in the Son of God ; let us not be content with what we have already 
obtained ; let us forget the things that are past, and press onward 
to the things which are before, for the prize of our high calling in 
Christ Jesus. Let us recollect that there is no standing still ; that 
if we are not growing in holiness and spiritual strength, we must be 
falling back. Let us beware of thinking that the contest is over, as 
though we were already perfect ; let us remember that sanctification 
is a progressive work ; that it is not to be attained in a single day, or 
a single year, or in a series of many years, nor ever wholly attained, 
so long as we remain in this world of sin. 

As a means of attaining greater degrees of grace, let us look to the 
Saviour and reflect on his finished work ; the more we think on his 
sufferings, the more will we hate sin, which was the cause of them ! 
The more we reflect on his love to us, the more will we love in return ; 
for " we love him, because he first loved us." With our love, our 
holiness will increase, and we shall be the more assimilated to his 
glorious character ; and consequently, we shall the more largely par- 
take of that happiness which is enjoyed by him in full perfection. 
The subject of the love of God as exhibited in the atonement, is infi- 
nite, and will be the theme of our praises through eternity. But 
though never able fully to comprehend, yet may we ever be learning 
more of the height, and depth, and breadth, and length of that love 
which passeth knowledge. 



286 APPENDIX. 

B. 

DR. CHALMERS. — THE ST. ANDREW'S MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 

Perhaps an apology may be necessary for again calling the atten- 
tion of our readers to a subject which may be supposed by some of 
them to have already occupied too prominent a place in the pages of 
the University Magazine. It is not, however, to the general subject 
of missions that the following observations refer ; but to an institu- 
tion, which, for several reasons, is highly deserving of our attention. 
The meetings of the St. Andrew's Missionary Society are conducted 
by one of the most distinguished men of the present age ; and one 
who is both an eleve and a Professor of our own University. After 
alluding to Dr. Chalmers, it is scarcely necessary to add, that the 
perfect originality of the plan of procedure in the public meetings of 
this society, furnishes the subject with an additional claim upon our 
regard. We feel quite ashamed, indeed, that we have not ere now 
given a more detailed account of these highly interesting meetings. 
Our only excuse is, that we have felt unequal to the task. When 
any subject is treated in an ordinary manner, a brief summary of 
leading ideas may be sufficient to suggest a pretty accurate concep- 
tion of the whole ; as a well executed sketch may give a just enough 
idea of a common painting. But should we attempt to give any ade- 
quate conception of the rich and expressive diction, and the living 
imagery of Dr. Chalmers's style, by a meagre outline of his ideas, it 
were something as if a mere dabbler in the fine arts should hold up 
his own rude and imperfect sketch of some masterpiece of the pencil, 
and pretend thereby to afford a just representation of that original, 
in which every lineament gave grace and beauty, and every touch 
gave life. This, therefore, we shall not attempt. Our object in these 
remarks is to give some account of Dr. Chalmers's plan of procedure, 
which we think might be extensively adopted in meetings of a similar 
nature, with very considerable advantage. 

Dr. Chalmers is, in the widest sense of the word, a Philosopher; 
and philosophy is his companion wherever he goes. He has here 
succeeded in introducing her into a place, where, it must be con- 
fessed, she has but seldom appeared hitherto, and where her friends 
expected, least of all, perhaps, to find her, the meeting of a Missionary 



ST. ANDREW'S MISSIONARY SOCIETY. 287 

Society. If we have been at all able to guess at the scope of Dr. 
Chalmers's general plan, from the few of these meetings we have had 
the pleasure of attending, he appears to us to have taken a most 
interesting view of missionary operations. He seems to regard the 
history of Christian enterprise among the heathen, as a wide field 
of observation, from whence we may gather, by induction, some very 
important truths in reference to the Christian religion. Accordingly, 
while interesting selections are read from the periodical accounts of 
different missionary societies, the inferences that may be legitimately 
drawn from the facts there recorded, are set forth by Dr. Chalmers 
in paragraphs of his own composition, occasionally interspersed with 
extemporaneous explanation. These serve to connect together the 
extracts that are read, and thus give to the whole the air of a con- 
tinuous and well arranged discourse, where some important doctrines 
are advanced, which are proved as well as deeply impressed on the 
mind by an appeal to very striking historical illustration. Appa- 
rently from a desire to give a more distinct view of the different 
spheres of missionary labour, Dr. Chalmers seems to wish to confine 
his attention to the operations of one body of Christians at a time. 
At those meetings which we have had the opportunity of attending, 
during this and the preceding session, the facts which have formed 
the ground-work of Dr. Chalmers's observations have been gleaned 
chiefly from the accounts of the Moravian missions. We have been 
informed that, during the summer months, the Church Missionary 
Society, and the Baptist Missionary Society, have also shared his 
attention. 

The facts connected with the Missions of the United Brethren, 
that Dr. Chalmers has brought forward, have given rise to some 
investigations concerning the great principles of our faith, which 
must prove interesting, not only to the supporters of missionary 
societies, but to every one who feels any concern in the cause of 
genuine Christianity. Some of these inquiries are so interesting, 
and lead to results of such paramount importance, that we shall 
refer a little more particularly to those facts which tend to their elu- 
cidation. 

The United Brethren have been at once the most successful, and 
the most popular of all missionaries. And it may be interesting to 
examine a little more closely into these two characteristics of the 
Moravian missions. And, first, as to their success. — What has 



288 APPENDIX. 

been the cause of it? What are their views of divine truth ? What 
has been the mode of their instruction ? And in their discourses, 
what are the truths which they bring most prominently forward? 
It is well known that, on this very subject, there is a division of 
opinion among the teachers of Christianity in our own land. One 
would think that a careful examination of facts might lead to a 
satisfactory determination of this question. 

Some theologians are of opinion that a few of the leading truths 
of the gospel, such as the atonement of Christ, and the other doc- 
trines that are inseparably connected with it, should hold a most 
prominent place in their public instructions. Others, while they 
may admit that these truths are contained in the Scriptures, and as 
such are to be received by us as matters of faith, are yet of opinion 
that they are a little too mysterious for the common people, and 
assure us that they think themselves far more likely to promote the 
cause of religion and virtue, if, instead of chiming on a few theoret- 
ical dogmas, they attempt to enforce on the attention of their hear- 
ers, those divine precepts, which embody the principles of a moral- 
ity, the purest and most perfect that the world has ever known. 

Now, on perusing the accounts of the Moravian Missions, we find 
that, on this very subject, a most interesting experiment has actually 
been made. These two systems of religious instruction have been 
successively brought to bear upon the same people, while their cir- 
cumstances remained the same; and therefore the experiment may 
be deemed a fair and decisive one. What renders the case still 
more interesting, is its great simplicity. There are no disturbing 
forces, so to speak, to confuse or embarrass our calculations in this 
highly important question of moral dynamics. The subjects of the 
experiment were savages in the very lowest state of degradation, 
and therefore we have no allowance to make for any state of prepa- 
ration that might result from previous knowledge. If it appear 
from the facts to which we shall refer, that the declaration of those 
doctrines generally deemed too abstract to produce any practical 
effect on the popular mind; the doctrines, viz.: of the total deprav- 
ity of all mankind, — of the vicarious suffering of the Son of God, 
• — of justification through belief in his atonement, and sanctification 
through the emission of the Holy Spirit ; if it appear that the 
simple declaration of these truths has wrought efficiently to the 
moral and economic renovation of the most ignorant, and the most 



ST. Andrew's missionary society. 289 

barbarous of the human species ; then it follows a fortiori that these 
are the doctrines which when preached in our own country, are 
most likely to prove effectual in producing uprightness, sobriety, 
and godliness throughout our own enlightened community. 

To come then to the facts. The scene of the experiment was the 
inhospitable region of Greenland ; and the moral and intellectual 
condition of the inhabitants was even more barren and dreary than 
the scenery with which they were surrounded. Here the only plau- 
sible system of instruction seemed to be to attempt to teach the 
savages those truths which are of a preliminary nature. Accord- 
ingly, the missionaries set to work most assiduously, in telling the 
Greenlanders of the being and character of a God, and of the require- 
ments of his law. However plausible this mode of instruction may 
appear, it was patiently continued in for seven years, without pro- 
ducing even the smallest effect on those hearts which ignorance and 
stupidity had rendered almost inaccessible. The first conversion, 
(as far as man was concerned), may be said to have been accidental. 
Some Southlanders happened to visit the brethren, as one of them 
was writing a translation of the gospels. They were curious to 
know what was in the book, and on hearing read the history of 
Christ's agony in the garden, one of the savages earnestly exclaimed, 
" How was that? Tell me it once more ; for I also would fain be 
saved." But it would be foreign to our purpose to enter into a 
minute detail of facts. We refer those who may wish to inquire 
more particularly into this most interesting passage of ecclesiastical 
history, to the original accounts,* which may be found in the library 
of the University Missionary Society. Suffice it to say, that some 
time after this remarkable conversion, the brethren entirely changed 
their method of instruction. " They now directed the attention of 
the savages, in the first instance, to Christ Jesus, to his incarnation, 
to his life, and especially to his sufferings."! This was the begin- 
ning of a new era in the history of the evangelization of Greenland. 
Conversion followed conversion, till the missionaries could number 
hundreds to whom the message of God had come, not in word 
only, but also in power. There is still one objection that may be 

* See Brown's History of Missions, vol. i. p. 294-298. Crantz's History of 
Greenland. 

f See Brown's History of Missions. 

25 



290 APPENDIX* 

made to the inference drawn from these facts, and one which at first 
sight appears very plausible. It may be asked, How do we know 
how far the first mode of instruction employed by the missionaries, 
although it produced no immediate benefit, may not have prepared 
the minds of savages, for receiving with intelligence the truths that 
were afterward declared to them ? To this we answer that previous 
to the preaching of the gospel, the savages do not seem to have been 
so much interested in their teachers, as to give them a fair hearing; 
and they surely could not be influenced by instructions to which they 
had never listened. But even were this a doubtful matter, the first 
conversion in Greenland is a splendid proof of the way in which the 
simple truths of the gospel seek their way to the human heart, 
unpioneered by any preliminary instruction whatever. 

But, quite satisfactory as this experiment is, still, did it stand 
alone, we might justly be charged with a rash induction, in drawing 
a general conclusion from premises so limited. But it does not 
stand alone. The Moravians have attempted the conversion and 
civilization of men of almost every country and of every condition ; 
and their uncommon success is borne testimony to, by all who have 
visited the scenes of their philanthropic exertions. Amid the snows 
of Greenland they have planted their little villages of comfort and 
happiness ; and the eye of the traveller has been refreshed, as it 
lighted on some spot of luxuriant verdure, which their hand has 
decked out in the midst of an African desert.* And, wherever 
success had attended their endeavours, whenever they tell of a single 
addition to the number of their converts, it is to the preaching of 
Christ, and of him crucified, that they attribute it all. Indeed, if 
we inquire into the reason why the Moravians have been more suc- 
cessful than other missionaries, we find that the distinguishing pecu- 
liarity of their preaching consists in this, that they dwell more 
simply and more constantly, on the love of Christ. In all parts of 
the world their mode of teaching has been nearly the same, and the 
change which their instructions have produced, upon men, the most 
diverse in their character and circumstances, is a beautiful illustra- 
tion of the divine efficacy which accompanies the simple preaching 
of the gospel. Under the instruction of these simple, and often 
uneducated men, the roving and unrestrained savage has been led 

* See Barrow's Travels. 



st. Andrew's missionary society. 291 

to abandon his irregular habits, and to cultivate the decencies of 
civilized life. Under their instruction, the North American Indian 
has been divested of his barbarous cruelty, and has even been known 
to suffer the most palpable injustice, and the most inhuman treat- 
ment from his countrymen, without an attempt, or even a w r ish to 
revenge. And, finally, under their instruction, the degraded, and 
almost heart-broken slave has been led to bow to the scourge of his 
insulting oppressor, with a meekness and submission, which the 
religion of Jesus alone could inspire. 

These are facts ; and facts are far more eloquent than words. We 
leave them to make their own impression. 

We are aware that we may seem to have dwelt too long on this 
one illustration ; but the paramount importance of the subject is a 
sufficient excuse. Almost every extract that Dr. Chalmers has read, 
has tended to demonstrate the vast superiority of that mode of 
Christian instruction which is generally termed evangelical. 

After dwelling so long on a single illustration of Dr. Chalmers's 
method of conducting the business of these meetings, we could have 
wished much in the present paper, (and more especially as this is 
the last opportunity that may now be afforded of so doing), to have 
gone on with a more general account of the numerous interesting topics 
that have been discussed during the course of the doctor's prelections. 
There is still one point, however, regarding the missions of the United 
Brethren, which we should be most unwilling slightly to pass over. 
And we are the less sorry, that we have been led^ in these detached 
sketches, to confine our attention exclusively to one or two points in 
the history of missions, inasmuch as we have all along expressed it 
to be our design, to draw the attention of our readers, not so much 
to the subject of missions, as to those important truths which the 
experiments of Christian philanthropy may have tended more strik- 
ingly to illustrate, and more firmly to establish. 

We have said of the United Brethren, that they have been at once 
the most successful, and the most popular of all missionaries. We 
have, already, at some length, inquired into the causes of their suc- 
cess ; it now remains, that we briefly advert to the subject of their 
popularity. 

We have already seen that the peculiar views of religious truths 
which these Christians entertain, are not such as generally meet 



292 APPENDIX. 

with very high admiration in the world ; and any person who has 
just glanced at their writings, must know, that the way in which 
they express their sentiments, is not very highly calculated to please 
the ear or gratify the taste of general readers. Certainly, at first 
sight, it is not very easy to conceive how the very persons who dwell 
most exclusively on those doctrines of the Bible, that are known to 
be most revolting to mere men of taste, should at all have attracted 
their attention, or gained their esteem. And yet it is a notorious 
fact, that by men in power, in the colonies where they labour, the 
Moravian missionaries are very highly respected ; while, among men 
of taste at home, they have become the objects of an almost senti- 
mental admiration. The explanation of the matter which Dr. Chal- 
mers has given, is at once simple and satisfactory. It is just this: 
The thing has had time to work. And those very principles which 
themselves are so generally nauseated by men of science and litera- 
ture, have effloresced into a beauty and a luxuriance which command 
the esteem, and excite the admiration of all. 

When the man of taste reads in the accounts which these mission- 
aries give of their success, such sentences as these, " Our Saviour 
continues to bless our feeble testimony, concerning the atonement 
which he has made for sinners •" " The Lord graciously owns our 
feeble endeavours, and accompanies with his blessing the preaching 
of the word of the cross," * (and these are fair specimens of the whole 
strain of their writings ;) in all probability, the sneer of mingled 
pity and contempt curls upon his lips, or he turns proudly away 
with loathing and disgust. But when the same individual is told of 
smiling villages, and cultivated fields, starting forth as if by magic, 
in the midst of a barren wilderness, when he hears that those whom 
he had been wont to rank, in point of intellect, with the inferior 
creation, are now disciplined in the elements of general knowledge, 
and skilled in the endowments of the arts, when he beholds the wan- 
dering marauders of the desert associated in little communities where 
peace and order reign in every breast, and comfort smiles upon every 
family ; his whole soul is enraptured by the realization of those very 
scenes, the mere imagination of which has given to poetry and romance, 
their chief and loveliest attractions. 

* Periodical Accounts of the Missions of the United Brethren. 



ST. Andrew's missionary society. 293 

Indeed, so different are the emotions excited in the mind of a man 
of taste, by the contemplation of the principles which are at work, 
and of the effects that are evolved by their operation, that he cannot 
be brought to believe that there is any such close connection between 
the result, and that which is alleged to be the cause of it. He will 
not admit that a state of things, so truly worthy the admiration of 
every benevolent and right thinking mind, could ever have been the 
result of a mode of operation so despicably weak and unphilosophical. 
And so biassed is his judgment by former prejudices, that no form 
of evidence, however strong, can ever compel him to the belief that 
those scenes of happiness and prosperity, which have so charmed 
his fancy, can at all have anything to do with the canting weakness, 
or the severe austerity of a system, which, far from thinking it capa- 
ble of introducing order and comfort, where confusion and misery 
had reigned before, he had always been wont to regard as that which 
damped the hilarity, and embittered the pleasures of those who were 
weak enough to become the dupes of its hypocritical promulgators, 
even in happier lands. Accordingly, in the broad day-light of the 
strongest evidence for the contrary, it has been most confidently 
asserted, that the success of the Moravian missionaries is not at all 
to be referred to those causes to which themselves have ascribed it. 
The celebrated traveller, Barrow, who visited the stations of the 
brethren in South Africa, gives the very highest testimony to the suc- 
cess of their operations ; but the nature of their operations them- 
selves, he most grossly misrepresents. Their system he contrasts 
with one, which he is pleased to call that of the " gospel mission- 
aries." " Instead of preaching to the natives," he informs us, " the 
mysterious parts of the gospel, the Moravians instructed them in use- 
ful industrious habits ; instead of building a church, they erected a 
storehouse. Their labours were crowned with complete success." * 
In a paper on Barrow's work, in the Edinburgh Beview, as well as 
in another article in the same periodical, on Lichtenstein's Travels, 
the same high commendation is awarded to the Moravians, for the 
wisdom manifested in their plans, and the same gross misrepresenta- 
tions are made in regard to the nature of these plans.f In the last 

* BarroVs Journey in Africa, p. 881. 

f Edinburgh Review, vol. viii. p. 434-438, and vol. xxi. pp. 65, 66. 

25* 



294 APPENDIX, 

mentioned article we are expressly told that the Moravian brethren 
" begin with civilizing their pupils, educating and instructing them 
in the useful arts." We are not sure whether this reviewer was the 
original inventor of the oft-repeated objection to missions in general, 
that "you must civilize a people before you can Christianize them." 
But if he was, it is most unfortunate for his theory that he happened 
to stumble on the operations of the Moravian missionaries, in order 
to support it ; for never has the objection met with more triumphant 
refutation, than in the successful labours of these devoted philan- 
thropists. The author of the review meant to compliment the 
Moravians ; but they felt insulted by his eulogium, and were the first 
to come forward and deny his assertions. 

Here, then, is a very high testimony to the efficacy of evangelical 
religion. A person unacquainted with the hidden mechanism, is 
delighted with the visible effects which are produced by it. He be- 
gins to speculate on the principles in which such results must have 
originated. He forms a theory of his own, agreeable to his own 
previously acquired modes of thinking, and proceeds forthwith to 
compliment those who had acted on so excellent a plan, and who had 
demonstrated its efficacy by the beautiful system which they had 
caused to emerge from it. The workers behind the scenes, now come 
forward, and tell him that he has quite mistaken the matter; for 
they have been acting on a system altogether different. Our specu- 
lator is not only disappointed to find that his own theory receives no 
support from the facts under consideration, and may not, for aught 
that he has yet seen, merit the high eulogiums, with which he has 
thought fit to honour it ; but he is confounded to discover, that he 
has been unwillingly bearing testimony to the merits of a plan at 
variance with his own ; and that the system to which his high 
eulogiums are now most legitimately transferable, is one, which he 
has all along been accustomed to declaim against as irrational, and 
to despise as unphilosophical. 



DIVISIONS OF PHILOSOPHY. 295 

C. 

ESSAY ON THE DIVISIONS OF PHILOSOPHY. 

The first which I shall give, is the essay read at the com- 
mencement of the class, and which has been repeatedly referred 
to already. At this time it must be remembered the writer had 
not enjoyed the benefit of Dr. Chalmers's course. It had only then 
begun. The subject is difficult, the paper is short; but the state- 
ment is most luminous, and the illustration uncommonly beauti- 
ful and felicitous. 

In considering this subject, the question has very forcibly pre- 
sented itself to us, " Why, in the physical department of philosophy, 
have the divisions and sub-divisions been carried to such a degree of 
minuteness, while in the moral department, they are comparatively 
few ?" Not, we conceive, because in the latter the field of observa- 
tion is more limited, or the materials more scanty than in the former; 
(for quite the reverse of this we believe to be true,) but chiefly be- 
cause the latter is involved in the darkness of mystery, which entirely 
obscures many of those lines of demarcation, which even in the 
former, are not very strongly delineated. 

Let us suppose, in illustration of this, that a man wholly unac- 
quainted with the classifications of philosophy, looked around on an 
ordinary landscape. There are traces of such marked distinction 
between some of the objects, and such strong points of resemblance 
between others, that he could not fail to make some general arrange- 
ment and classification of the whole. He would at once distinguish 
the land from the water, and the green herbage from the naked rock, 
and the houses from the trees, and the animate from the inanimate 
objects that surrounded him. If we further suppose that while he 
was thus gazing on the scene, the shades of night began to gather 
around him, it is easy to conceive how many of the nicer lines of 
distinction which were before so apparent, would now become dim 
and undiscernible ; how the sky would seem to mingle with the 
ocean : and how the herbage, and the trees, and the houses, and the 



296 APPENDIX. 

animals, would be involved in one dark shade of unvaried sameness; 
and how, where he could before point out many a division, and 
many a sub-division, two or three grand lineaments, and these but 
faintly perceptible, would be all he could discern within the whole 
range of his survey. 

And thus it is with the two grand divisions of philosophy; the 
philosophy of matter, and the philosophy of mind. In the one we 
have to do with an external world, where all is luminous and dis- 
tinct; in the other we have to do with the busy world within, where 
all is seen as through a glass, darkly. Need we wonder, then, that 
the one has been far more minutely divided and sub-divided than 
the other? 

Accordingly we find that while mental science has been divided 
into three parts, viz., Logic, Rhetoric, and Moral Philosophy, the 
divisions of physical science amount to at least ten times that 
number. 

But not only are the divisions of mental science few, but few as 
they are, they have been confounded together. And this we think 
has arisen, not so much from that obscurity which envelopes the 
whole subject, as from the intimate connection with each other of its 
different departments. 

There is here a distinction, which we would notice, between the 
physical and mental sciences, that while the materials of the former 
are widely scattered over the whole face of nature, and seem not to 
be connected by any common tie, those of the latter have all a refer- 
ence to a single object — the human mind. It is thus, that, as 
among the members of the human body, there exists among all the 
departments of this latter science, a common sympathy, if we may 
so speak; so that if one suffer, all suffer with it; if one is injured, 
all are injured. And it is this very close connection which has been 
the cause of their being confounded together. 

To illustrate this, let us suppose that war has been declared 
against one of two confederate states, and that the inhabitants of 
the other come promptly forward, to defend the territories of their 
ally, and that after they have succeeded in beating off the enemy, 
they still linger in the country, and become gradually so amalga- 
mated with the original inhabitants, that in process of time the two 
peoples are confounded in one. 



NATURE AND POLITICAL ECONOMY. 297 

Now this, we think, is just what has happened with regard to the 
moral and intellectual philosophies. Distinctly separate, yet nearly 
allied ; the attack which Mr. Hume made upon the one, struck, 
though indirectly, at the very vitals of the other, and the champions 
of moral science wisely took the alarm. It was then first, that with 
a laudable zeal, they overstepped the limits of their own domain ; 
and had they returned when tranquillity was restored, they had done 
well. It is not for going forth to meet a common enemy that we 
censure them, but because when that enemy was defeated, they still 
lingered in a foreign land, and forgot to retire within their own 
peculiar territories. 



ESSAY ON THE ANALOGY WHICH SUBSISTS BETWEEN THE 
OPERATIONS OF NATURE AND THE OPERATIONS OF POLITI- 
CAL ECONOMY. 

On the 31st of the same month he read another essay in the 
class, on one of the topics of Political Economy, around which the 
fertile genius of Dr. Chalmers has thrown a fascination and a 
splendour, of which the subject was not previously supposed to be 
susceptible. How thoroughly his pupil was imbued with the 
ardent spirit of his professor, this essay most powerfully illus- 
trates. Every reader will form his own judgment of the argu- 
ment. Of the composition of the paper, and the beauty of the 
illustration, there can be but one opinion 

It has been said by some writers of natural history, that an anti- 
dote to the venom of the serpent is to be found within the body of 
the animal itself. We know not whether there be any truth in this 
assertion ; but if there be, that must surely be a very beautiful 
mechanism by which those very organs which produce a deadly poison, 
produce also a remedy for its fatal effects ; and surely that arrange- 
ment is a display of the most consummate wisdom by which the 
efficient cause of an evil is also the efficient cause of its cure. 



298 APPENDIX. 

Now there is a principle very much akin to this, which exists in 
almost all the operations of nature, a principle to which nature in 
a great measure owes that constancy for which she has been so 
greatly admired. The principle we refer to is this, — That an ope- 
ration of nature whenever it arrives at that stage in its progress, 
where its effects would begin to be detrimental, by a very beautiful 
constitution of things, gives rise to an operation of an opposite 
tendency, and thus works out a cure for those very evils which it- 
self seemed to threaten. Thus, were we unacquainted with the 
workings of nature, and did we behold the sun, day after day, shin- 
ing on the earth with unclouded splendour ; and did we perceive 
that, day after day, in consequence of this the soil was becoming 
more parched ; and did we further know that, without moisture, 
vegetation would cease, and the fruits of the earth could not come 
to perfection, — we might well look forward with the most dismal 
foreboding to what would seem the inevitable consequence. But 
how would our fears give place to our admiration of the Creator's 
wisdom and goodness, when we were told that that sun which we 
were thus contemplating as the cause of so much misery, was at 
that very moment gathering by the influence of his rays, the waters 
of the ocean, and suspending them in mighty reservoirs above us, 
which would again gently descend over the whole surface of our 
earth, and thus refresh the drooping plants, and give a new impulse 
to the economy of vegetation. There is another very beautiful 
instance of the operation of this principle. When any particular 
region of the earth begins to be overheated, the air is rarefied, — it 
consequently ascends ; the cool air which is around, rushes in to 
supply its place, and thus does a refreshing breeze blow over that 
land, which had else been in a short time rendered uninhabitable. 

And now to apply this to the subject before us. In the opera- 
tions of political economy, as well as in the operations of nature, 
there is a beautiful constancy ; and it is truly wonderful to think 
what a rough handling a nation will come through, and with what 
hardihood she will endure it; to think how famine and pestilence, 
and foreign war, and internal commotion, will successively lay 
hold of her ; and how she will escape from their grasp, and in a 
few short years will be nearly what she was before she was subjected 
to it. And as the operations of political economy resemble the ope- 



NATURE AND POLITICAL ECONOMY. 299 

rations of nature in their constancy, we think they also resemble 
them in the cause of this constancy ; and we shall try to illustrate 
this by an example or two. 

Thus, in every country there should be a certain relation between 
the produce and the population ; and it is interesting to observe how 
the constancy of this relation is maintained, through all the changes 
to which a nation is exposed. 

Let us suppose, for example, that by improvements in tilling the 
ground, in the rotations of the crops, &c, the agricultural pro- 
duce is increased, and thus the constancy of the relation between 
the produce and the population is for a time destroyed. There is in 
this instance a superabundance of produce, or what is the same 
thing, there is a deficiency of population. Now let us see how the 
original relation between them is again restored. The agricultural 
produce being increased, more corn is brought to market, and the 
demand, in the first instance at least, remains the same : the conse- 
quence is, corn is cheapened. The cheapening of corn again puts 
more of the inhabitants in a condition to support a family ; mar- 
riages take place earlier, and the population is increased ; and thus 
is the deficiency made up, and the proper relation between the pro- 
duce and the population again restored. 

But it must be evident to every one, that were the population thus 
to go on increasing indefinitely, the proper relation would soon be 
more than restored, the ratio would become reversed, and instead 
of a superabundance of produce, there would soon be a redundancy 
of population. But here, too, may we behold the beautiful effect 
of that arrangement, by which the remedy for the evil is involved 
in the evil itself. As the population has now increased, the demand 
has also increased: but in this latter instance the supply has re- 
mained the same ; the natural consequence of which is, that the 
price of corn rises. It is now of course more difficult to support a 
family ; marriages are discouraged, and thus does the very increase 
of population, as soon as it comes to that point where its further 
increase would be detrimental, actually bring a check upon itself. 

Again, from various causes we sometimes see an old manufacture 
abolished. And here there would seem to be a great and immediate 
evil ; a vast number of operatives are thrown out of employment. 
And yet, if we consider the subject attentively, we shall find that 



800 APPENDIX. 

here, too, as well as in the example already adduced, the evil, if let 
alone, will remedy itself. And wherever we thus see an old manu- 
facture abolished, may we with confidence predict that the wealth 
which supported that manufacture, will either give rise to a new 
one, or will so divide itself among those that yet remain, as to give 
a new impulse to each* And thus will the evil be remedied, and that 
class of the community which have been thrust from their old occu- 
pation, will either find employment in a new manufacture, or will 
be parceled out among the manufactures that yet remain. There is 
still as much food for them in the country as before, and all that 
they will suffer will merely be the temporary inconvenience attend- 
ing a change of employment. , 

Were one of the mouths of the Nile to be stopped up, that river 
would not discharge less water into the ocean than it did before. 
The water which used to flow through that channel, would at first, 
it is true, flow backwards ; but it would not continue to do so, nor 
would it even remain stationary ; it would seek another direction, 
and it would either overflow the banks, and hollow out a new channel 
for itself, or it would divide itself and flow to the sea, through the 
channels that yet remained. And here, by the way, , would we 
advert to that political delusion which would magnify the import- 
ance of any one branch of manufacture or commerce. The waters 
of the ocean would not be diminished by one drop, because they had 
ceased to receive the tribute of that stream. So long as the same 
body of water continued to flow on from the fountain head, so long 
would the monarch of waters know no diminution in his resources. 
And it were well if our statesmen, as well as our operatives, could 
perceive that the manufacture does not produce either the taxes in 
the one case, or the wages in the other ; that it is merely the channel 
through which they flow ; and that so long as the national ability 
remains the same, neither the revenues of the state, nor the wages 
of the operatives will suffer one iota of diminution by the decay of 
any one branch of commerce or manufacture. We do not say that 
in such an event there would be no loss at all ; but we do affirm that , 
ultimately the loss would not be sustained by the government, nor 
by those employed in the manufacture, but by the public at large. 

To return to our illustration. That particular branch of the Nile 
might have added much to the beauty of the scenery on its banks, 



NATURE AND POLITICAL ECONOMY. 301 

and might have ministered in a high degree to the enjoyment, and 
even to the comfort of those who dwelt among them ; and the stop- 
ping up of its channel would be felt by them to be a very serious incon- 
venience. And thus, too, the particular branch of manufacture 
might have furnished an article which contributed very much to the 
enjoyment or the comfort of the public ; and in so far its decay 
might be felt as a very calamitous event. But still our remark holds 
true, that ultimately the operatives will not suffer ; that ultimately 
the state will not suffer ; that in this respect the evil will remedy itself; 
that if the stream of public wealth flow not through that channel, 
it will seek out another, and that if there be a temporary stagnation 
till the new outlet be formed, it will be compensated by the more 
than usual rapidity of the current, when it has cleared away the 
obstructions. 

We hope the two examples we have adduced may have been suffi- 
cient to illustrate that constitution of things, by which an evil is 
made to remedy itself, and to show how the operation of this prin- 
ciple serves to regulate the vast machinery of a nation, and to give 
a constancy and a steadiness to all its movements. And we would 
now ask to what should the discovery of this lead us? 

We might have concluded a priori that that God whose goodness 
is over all his works, while he regulated all the changes of nature, 
and maintained an unvarying constancy in all her operations, would 
not leave to chance, or to the guidance of mere human wisdom, the 
regulation of those principles on which depends the temporal hap- 
piness of his rational creatures. And when in the workings of these 
principles we discover that same constancy which distinguishes the 
operations of nature, and the same means employed to preserve that 
constancy ; and when we perceive, further, that all this may go on 
independent of our knowledge, and most certainly does go on inde- 
pendent of our direction ; should it not go very much to strengthen 
the conclusion ? Let us acknowledge then, that there is here the 
working of a mightier agency than man ; and let us ascribe that 
constant hardihood with which a nation survives all the changes 
that pass over her, to the care and the wisdom of that same Mighty 
Being, " who causeth the vapours to ascend from the ends of the 
earth : who maketh lightnings for the rain ; and who bringeth the 
wind out of his treasuries." 

26 



302 APPENDIX. 

The concluding paragraph is a beautiful instance of the prevail- 
ing disposition of the writer's mind, and of the happy ease with 
which he could connect every speculation and exercise with his 
leading and darling subject. His mind traced the hand of the 
benevolent Creator in all his operations, whether of nature or of 
providence. He beheld and adored his wisdom, both in the un- 
controlable and efficient laws of the universe, and in the frame 
and constitution of society. What affected his own mind, he was 
desirous should affect the minds of others ; and " out of the ful- 
ness of his heart, his mouth spake." Yet there is no thrusting of 
the subject forward. It is not only presented in all its import- 
ance, but with the grace and modesty which could not fail to 
command respect and attention. 



Not satisfied with his labours in the several classes which he 
attended, he took an active part in a Literary Society, consisting 
of the young men attending the University; and at one of its 
meetings, held on the 11th of December, he read an essay, or 
delivered a speech, on the following subject : — 

THAT KNOWLEDGE GIVES ITS POSSESSOR MORE POWER THAN 
WEALTH DOES. 

It has been said by Lord Bacon, that " knowledge is power," and 
the same thing has been asserted of wealth by Mr. Hobbes. And 
with both these statements we perfectly agree. The very nature of 
our present debate presupposes the truth of both. The question this 
evening is, " Whether does wealth or knowledge give its possessor 
more power ?" Now we do think that there is a great deal of vague- 
ness in the terms of the question ; and we do anticipate, from this, a 
good deal of misapprehension, and a good deal of wrangling about 
words and definitions, when, after all, the disputants may be one 
in sentiment. There are various views that may be taken of the 
question; and we shall first consider it in its strict and literal inter- 



THE POWER OF KNOWLEDGE. 303 

pretation ; and in this view, we think, there can be little or no debate 
at all. The very fiercest of our opponents, we should think, will 
allow, that wealth, altogether apart from knowledge, can accomplish 
nothing at all ; for a certain degree of knowledge is necessary t& the 
right application of wealth. An idiot might lavish the most bound- 
less fortune, and after all be further from his point than he was be- 
fore. On the other hand, we frankly confess, that knowledge, alto- 
gether apart from wealth, can accomplish but little, since a certain 
portion of wealth is necessary to carry our plans into execution. 
The fact is, that, to accomplish anything of importance, they must 
go hand in hand, knowledge must devise the plan, and wealth, in 
general, must furnish the means to carry that plan into execution. 
To knowledge and wealth may we justly apply the language of Sallust, 
when speaking of the mind and the body: "Utruinque per se indigens, 
alterum alterius auxilio eget." 

But even in this view of the subject there are some things which 
knowledge can do altogether independent of wealth, though we know 
of none that wealth can do altogether independent of knowledge. 
Thus, with a mere knowledge of the power of the lever, (a machine 
so simple that it may be had for nothing,) I can raise a very great 
weight; a thing to accomplish which, wealth might have been lavished 
in vain. 

But there is another view of the subject, and we think the most 
correct of all, in which wealth itself may be said to be the result of 
knowledge, and, consequently, all the power which is attributed to 
wealth may be referred to knowledge as its ultimate cause. And, 
that this a correct view, a very slight attention to the subject will 
convince us. Let us look to that country which is sunk lowest in 
the depths of ignorance, and we shall invariably find that that coun- 
try too is sunk lowest in the depths of poverty and wretchedness ; 
and that, on the other hand, that country which stands highest in 
the scale of knowledge, stands highest also in the scale of wealth. 
And if we just consider how much commerce is indebted to the inven- 
tion of the compass, and the discoveries of astronomy, and how much 
manufactures owe to the invention of machinery, and how much 
their productive powers are thus increased, we shall come to the con- 
clusion, that almost, if not altogether, all our wealth is the result of 
our knowledge. Most justly then, viewing the subject in this light, 



304 APPENDIX. 

might we turn the weapons of our opponents against themselves, 
and make their every argument, for their side of the question, to tell 
most powerfully against them on our own. 

But this, though the most just and philosophical view of the ques- 
tion, is evidently not the view that was intended to be taken of it: 
for it is a view that resolves the question itself into an absurdity — 
a view, which, if the framers of the question had taken, they would 
never have framed it at all. And though we could thus take the advan- 
tage of our adversaries by disarming them, and then by those very 
arms, compelling them to surrender, we are not reduced to such a 
shift ; we can meet them upon more honourable terms. 

We shall therefore attempt to show, that, even in the more loose 
and ordinary interpretation of the question, knowledge gives its pos- 
sessor more power than wealth does. And, as the word power is 
very general and undefined, we shall take two modifications of it; 
viz., mechanical power, and political power. By the mechanical 
power of knowledge, we mean that power which it gives us over inani- 
mate nature ; and, by political power, that power which it give us over 
our fellow-men ; and from both these acceptations of the term, we 
shall try to show, that knowledge gives us more power than wealth. 
First, with regard to its mechanical power. We would remark here, 
that two agents may both be capable of performing the same thing, 
and yet the power of the one may very much exceed that of the 
other ; and in such a case we must estimate their relative power by 
the effort which it costs each to perform the thing in view, and we 
shall find that the power is inversely as the effort. Thus I may be 
able to lift a weight with my little finger, which a child can do only 
by exerting his whole strength, and in this case I am said to have 
more power than the child, because the effort it costs me to do the 
same thing is not so great. Now, we shall take a case analogous to 
this where something is to be done, and where knowledge and wealth 
may be said to be the agents, where we have a distinct view of the 
way in which each performs it.* Wealth performs the task, but it 
is with such an effort as almost drained the coffers of even Eoman 
resources. She builds a gigantic bridge across the valley, while 
knowledge accomplishes the same object by simply laying a pipe 
along the ground. When we compare the vast and imposing fabric 
of an ancient aqueduct with the simple, and withal, undignified 

* The problem is to carry water across a valley. 



THE POWER OF KNOWLEDGE. 305 

apparatus of a modern water-pipe, we cannot fail to be struck with 
the ease and simplicity with which knowledge can perform that 
which it costs wealth such an effort to accomplish. And one would 
think, that in viewing these proud remains of Koman wealth and 
Koman ignorance, a feeling of the painfully ludicrous would stifle 
our rising admiration of their sublimity, and that the very grandeur 
of their structure, when compared with their design, would remind 

us of 

" an ocean into tempest wrought 

To waft a feather, or to drown a fly." 

But though, in the present instance, wealth, by the mightiness of 
the effort, may seem to rival knowledge in solving the problem, there 
are many instances were she is left far behind, and cannot by the 
very mightiest efforts, come up with knowledge. 

By the assistance of knowledge, we are enabled almost by a touch 
of our finger, to raise the most immense weights, and may almost be 
said to weigh the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance. 
By her assistance can we scour the unknown regions of ether, and 
penetrate the still more secret caverns of the deep. By her assist- 
ance too, can we guide a floating city over the main, and turn it at 
our will by a little helm. By her assistance, too, can we impress 
the very elements into our service, and make the winds our messen- 
gers, and the water and the fire our slaves. And by her assistance, 
too, can we give to inanimate objects all the vigour of animal life ; 
thus creating for ourselves a Behemoth, whose bones are brass, and 
sinews bars of iron ; thus making him our slave, and forcing him to 
prepare for us those necessaries and conveniences which formerly 
we obtained by the sweat of our brow. Such is the power of know- 
ledge ; and, till our adversaries can give us instances of the power 
of wealth, which can be compared with them, we think that we have 
gained the question. 

We intended next to have treated of political power ; but we shall 
first hear refuted the arguments we have already adduced. 

26* 



306 APPENDIX. 

None of my young friend's Essays have pleased me more than 
the one, which is now to follow. It was read to the moral class, 
on the 10th of January, 1825. The subject afforded a favourable 
opportunity of introducing the evangelical system, and that 
opportunity was not neglected. But there is more than the 
introduction of the system — there is a beautiful exposition of it, 
in which the writer steers clear of the selfish system of Sande- 
man on the one hand, and the ultra-spirituality of some of the 
American divines on the other. The one does not sufficiently 
distinguish between self-love and selfishness ; the other treats man 
as if he were a being capable of merging all his personal feelings 
and interests, in a vague and undefined idea of God, and of holi- 
ness. The Scriptures never require us to lose sight of our per- 
sonal interest in the divine favour; but they never urge it as the 
principal or the only plea, that we should do the will of God. 
They bring us, as is here well stated, under the influence of the 
great principles which govern Deity himself ; and thus combine 
the perfect enjoyment of blessedness, with the perfect exercise 
of benevolence. 

AN ESSAY ON THE SELFISH SYSTEM. 

We are told of the Emperor Nero, among his other unnatural 
actions, that no sooner was his appetite so satiated with one course 
of gluttony, as to refuse more food, than he again fitted himself in a 
most revolting manner, for renewing the round of sensual gratifica- 
tion. Of another individual we are told that such was his dread of 
future disease and death, that he sat continually in one scale of a 
balance, with a counterpoise in the other, and that it was his con- 
stant employment to watch the deflections of the beam, and most 
studiously to preserve the equality of the balance, so that he never 
took food till his own scale ascended, and stopped eating as soon as 
the equilibrium was restored. As the motives which induced each 
of these individuals to take food are evidently very different from 
each other, so are the motives of both strikingly different from those 



ESSAY ON SELFISHNESS. 307 

which in this matter actuate the great mass of mankind. Of the 
first individual we would say, that pleasure was his object, and that 
he took food merely as a means of obtaining this pleasure. With 
regard to the second, again, we would say that it was self-love that 
dictated his extraordinary conduct; that he' took food, not like the 
other, for the sake of gratifying his palate, but purely from a con- 
sideration of the posterior advantages which would thence accrue to 
him. With the great mass of mankind, again we would say, that 
hunger is the primary and ruling incitement; that they eat not in 
general to gratify their palate, and far less from a consideration of 
any posterior advantage ; but chiefly for the purpose of satisfying 
their appetite. Food is not used by them as the mere means of ob- 
taining something else, it is itself the primary and terminating object 
of their desire. 

From these familiar illustrations, we think we may discover the 
difference between self-love, and the more special affections of our 
nature. The chief distinction seems to be, that the latter terminate 
in some external object, while the former uses that object as a means 
of promoting some plan of future interest. Of all the characters we 
have mentioned, only one seems to have been actuated by self- 
love, he who took food from a sense of the beneficial effects which 
would follow. It may be thought, that Nero, too, was actuated by 
selfishness, inasmuch as he used the food as a means of obtaining 
something else ; but on a close examination, we shall find that it 
was not the love of self, but the love of pleasure, which was his 
actuating motive ; that if he had any regard to self-interest, his con- 
duct would have been altogether different: that he was in fact pur- 
suing a line of conduct in direct opposition to all that self-love would 
dictate. We may here just remark by the way, the wisdom display- 
ed in this constitution of our animal frame. Our Creator has not 
left us to discover that without being invigorated by food, and re- 
freshed by sleep, our bodies could not long subsist ; and thus, from 
a principle of self-love to attend to the taking of food and repose, 
as duties which it was necessary to perform, in order to self-preser- 
vation : but He has endowed us with special affections ; with a de- 
sire for food and sleep when the body requires them: just as he has 
given us a sense of injury, and a feeling of resentment, to preserve 
us from the injustice of our fellow men. 



308 APPENDIX. 

Now in morals there are facts analogous to those which we have 
just mentioned, with regard to our animal frame. As there is a de- 
sire for food altogether apart from any future consequences ; and as 
there is a more immediate pleasure, and a more remote advantage 
which attend the satisfying of this desire, — so is there a motive to the 
performance of a virtuous action, altogether for its own sake, and 
apart from all its consequences ; and there is also a more immedi- 
ate pleasure, and a more remote happiness attending the perform- 
ance of such an action. As it has appeared that there are different 
motives which may induce us to take food, so are there different 
motives which may urge us to the performance of a virtuous deed. 
The abettors of the selfish system seem to have erred in confound- 
ing these together, or rather in making the one motive of selfishness 
swallow up the rest. 

It may be true that much of the seeming virtue of our world must 
be put to the account of selfishness ; and much of it, too, to the 
account of sentimentalism ; and yet, is it true, that virtue may be 
followed for her own sake ; that she has a native grace and attrac- 
tion of her own, altogether independent of the pleasure and the hap- 
piness which follow in her train. 

In the illustration which we took from our animal nature, we felt 
it difficult to adduce a solitary instance where selfishness was the 
actuating motive ; and there one would think it impossible to con- 
found, unless designedly, self-love, with the more special affections ; 
but in the moral world, alas, the case is different. Here are thou- 
sands who perform virtuous actions, altogether from selfish motives, 
for one that follows virtue for her own sake. And when we find that 
many seem virtuous in their outward conduct, who care not to swerve 
from the path of rectitude, if they can but do it unobserved ; that 
the merchant who would shudder at the thought of forgery, or any 
such gross and palpable crime, can yet in his every day transactions, 
impose on those he deals with, and indulge in a thousand little and 
unperceived deceits ; and when we find that this is a true delinea- 
tion of the moral character, not of one in a city, or even one in a 
family, but of the great bulk of our species, — need we wonder that, 
from such a view of human nature, some should have come to the 
conclusion that all virtue is the result of selfishness, or rather that 
there is no true virtue at all ? 



ESSAY ON SELFISHNESS. 309 

But all this is easily accounted for by the fact, that a blight hath 
corrupted the moral scenery of our world ; and it just tallies with 
what we are told in the book of revelation, of the total depravity of 
our whole race. 

If, then, there were a system which professed to be able to renew 
our nature, and to restore us to our original purity, we should most 
confidently expect that the disciples of such a system should follow 
virtue, not from any selfish principle, but simply and solely for her 
own sake. There is such a system, by which these expectations have 
been fully realized, — even the system of evangelical Christianity. 
We know that it has been asserted, that here, too, self-love is the 
actuating motive; that the disciples of this system are influenced in 
their conduct by the hope of reward, and the fear of punishment ; 
but if we rightly understand this system, the assertion is most false. 
It is true that the evangelical system makes its first appeal to our 
self-love, or otherwise it could not have been adapted to depraved and 
selfish creatures ; but it is equally true that the virtue to which it 
leads, is of the most pure and disinterested nature. The way in 
which this is accomplished, is, we think, well illustrated, in the case 
of that young man who was couched for a cataract in the beginning 
of the last century, and whose case so much interested the philoso- 
phers of Europe. To induce him to submit to the operation, his 
friends told him of the loveliness of scenery, and of the pleasure to 
be derived from gazing on beautiful objects. — Such reasoning had 
no effect, — he could form no conception of beauty ; they were in 
fact addressing a special affection which did not exist. An appeal 
was made to his self-love, he was told of the advantages to be de- 
rived from reading, and this we are told, proved effectual. And 
thus it is that the gospel addresses itself to man. It might tell him 
of the loveliness of virtue, and the deformity of vice ; and well do 
we know that such reasoning would prove utterly powerless. True, 
he has a faculty for perceiving moral beauty, just as the blind man 
has an eye ; but as in his case, too, there is a thick film spread over 
it. True, the most depraved of our race can distinguish virtue from 
vice, and pterceive a Tightness in the one, and a wrongness in the 
other, just as many blind people can tell the light from the dark- 
ness; but just as they cannot perceive that harmonious variety of 
colour and shade which constitutes the loveliness of natural scenery, 



310 APPENDIX. 

so cannot the unrenewed mind perceive that which is so emphati- 
cally termed the " beauty of holiness." The same appeal which proved 
effectual in the case of him who was blind, is also effectual in the 
case of fallen man, — an appeal to self-love. The Bible can tell him 
of the future punishment of sin, and to the whispers of his own 
conscience it can add the voice of its authority, in telling him that 
he is a sinner: it can constrain him to cry out, " What shall I do to 
be saved?" and to such a question it can give a most satisfactory 
answer. If he is thus led to accept of its terms, he no sooner does 
so, than the film which obscured his moral vision is removed. He 
is now in some degree restored to the lost image of the Godhead, 
and can therefore perceive an independent beauty in virtue, and an 
independent deformity in vice. It is not now, we conceive, from 
the hope of heaven, or the fear of hell, that he is virtuous ; it is be- 
cause he loves holiness that he follows after it; — it is because he 
hates sin that he flees from it ; his attachment to the one, and his 
recoil from the other, will still continue to strengthen : and even now, 
all weak and imperfect as they are, do they proceed from a principle 
similar to that which determines the choice of Deity himself. 

Little do they understand the evangelical system, who urge against 
it the plea that the virtue of its disciples is a virtue of selfishness. 
So far is this from being the case, that let but self-love be the prin- 
ciple that regulates our conduct, — let but the hope of reward, and 
the fear of punishment be all that prompts us to virtue, and the 
reward itself will never follow. Some there have been, who from 
this principle have refrained from many of the vices, and even from 
many of the innocent enjoyments of life, — who have been ingeni- 
ous in inventing self-torments here, that they might escape eternal 
punishment hereafter ; but yet, is the character of such virtue, and 
the final judgment which shall be passed upon it, most truly de- 
scribed by the poet, when he exclaims, 

"What is all righteousness that men devise? 
What, — but a sordid bargain for the skies ? 
But Christ as soon would abdicate his own, 
As stoop from heaven to sell the proud a throne." 



REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 311 



D. 



THE DOCTRINE OF A GRADATION IN REWARDS AND PUNISH- 
MENTS; AND AN ATTEMPT TO APPLY IT TO THE SUBJECT OF 
MISSIONS. 

In ail those descriptions of the final retribution which are given 
us in the Bible, our attention is called to two great divisions of the 
inhabitants of our world: namely, "Those who shall go away into 
everlasting punishment ; and those who shall go into life eternal." 
But, though there be thus one grand classification of our whole 
species, where the line of demarcation is very broad and very strongly 
marked ; yet in the same description, do we find an account given 
of minuter sub-divisions, whose bounding lines are not so vivid, but 
which imperceptibly shade into and blend with each other. And 
we think ourselves fully warranted to suppose, that there will be 
different degrees of glory on the one hand, and different degrees of 
punishment on the other ; and that these will be determined by the 
privileges we have enjoyed on earth, and the degree to which those 
privileges have been improved or neglected. He that had gained 
ten pounds was made ruler over ten cities ; he that gained five, over 
five cities. And again, " That servant which knew his Lord's will, 
and prepared not himself, neither did according to his will, shall be 
beaten with many stripes ; but he that knew not, and did commit 
things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes. For unto 
whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required ; and to 
whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more." 
But this doctrine of a gradation in rewards and punishments has 
been thought, by some, inconsistent with the Scripture doctrine of 
justification by faith ; and inconsistent with the free and unmerited 
nature of that reward which shall be given to those who are thus 
justified. Were the glory promised a fair return for our well-doings, 
there might then be some force in the objection ; but when we con- 
sider, that, after we have done all that we are commanded, (and, 
who is there that can boast of having done so?) we are still unpro- 
fitable servants ; and when we consider that sin mingles with our 



312 APPENDIX. 

best services, which cannot, therefore, be pleasing to that God who 
cannot look upon iniquity but with abhorrence ; we shall perceive, 
that this view of the final retribution, far from being at variance 
with the grand and fundamental doctrine of the gospel, magnifies it 
and does it honour ; inasmuch as it is the imputed righteousness of 
Christ, which imparts to our actions all in them that is pleasing, and 
all that is acceptable to God. 

The doctrine of the cross is represented in the Bible as the foun- 
dation, and the virtuous actions of believers as the superstructure 
which is built upon it; the latter, deriving all their strength and all 
their stability from the former : standing upon it, and falling in 
utter impotency to the ground as soon as it is removed. " For other 
foundation," says Paul, " can no man lay than that is laid, which i8 
Jesus Christ. Now if any man build upon this foundation, gold, 
silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble ; every man's work shall 
be made manifest, for the day shall declare it, because it shall be 
revealed by fire ; and the fire shall try every man's work of what 
sort it is. If any man's work abide, which he hath built thereupon, 
he shall receive a reward. If any man's work shall be burned, he 
shall suffer loss ; but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire." 

There seems, then, to be a connection between the degree of active 
exertion here, and the degree of reward hereafter ; and also a con- 
nection between the degree of suffering here, and the degree of glory 
that shall follow. " He which soweth sparingly," says Paul, " shall 
reap also sparingly ; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap 
aLso bountifully." And the same apostle assures us, that " our light 
affliction which is but for a moment, worketh out for us a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 

Of the truth of these remarks, we have a very beautiful illustra- 
tion in the mediatorial character of the Son of God. His was a life 
of the most strenuous exertion ; it was his meat, and his drink to do 
the will of his Father. His, too, was a life of the most unparalleled 
suffering. He was emphatically " a man of sorrows, and acquainted 
with grief." And as he suffered more than any one of his followers, 
as his visage was marred, more than any man, and his form more 
than the sons of men, so shall his glory far exceed that of any of 
those whom He condescends to call his brethren. It is the connec- 
tion between his unwearied exertion and his reward ; the connection 



REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 313 

"between his sufferings, and his glory, that we especially advert to. 
Paul tells us that it became him " by whom are all things, and for 
whom are all things, to make the Captain of our salvation perfect 
through suffering/' And it is after giving an account of the humili- 
ation of our Lord, that the apostle adds, " Therefore, (on which 
account) God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name 
which is above every name." But it may be thought that though 
these remarks hold, in their fullest extent, with regard to Him who 
was without sin, and who could demand, as his due, that reward 
which was but a fair compensation for his faultless accomplishment 
of the work which was given him to do ; yet that they are wholly 
misapplied with regard to those whose very best services are polluted 
and mingled with sin. It is true that we can make no demand, 
that we have no plea to urge at the hands of justice, that our very 
salvation from wrath is a matter of purest mercy, of free and un- 
merited favour. But yet it is true, that "God is not unrighteous to 
forget our work and labour of love ;" and we are assured that if we 
suffer with Christ, we shall also reign with him. 

We shall first, then, consider it as a privilege to he permitted to 
labour in the cause of Christ; and we shall advert to one or two of 
the ways in which we can share in his sufferings, and consequently 
be made partakers of His glory. First, then, Jesus Christ was a 
martyr. He sealed his testimony with his blood. And hence the 
promise, "Be thou faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown 
of life." And hence the willingness, nay, the eagerness of the first 
disciples to gain a martyr's crown. Yes, there was a time when 
the followers of Him whom Pilate crucified, were proud to show 
their attachment to their Master, at the expense of life itself. But 
those days of fiery trial are gone. And too much cause have we to 
fear, that the spirit of martyrdom is gone along with them. That 
spirit of fervent love to God, and of devoted attachment to each 
other, which so distinguished the early Christians, as to draw forth 
the applauses even of their enemies, is gone with the persecution 
which was the cause of it ; and there hath come in its room a spirit 
of cold and heartless profession ; a spirit of animosity and dissen- 
sion among those of whom once it was said, " Behold, how these 
Christians love one another." The test of faithfulness unto death 
you cannot now make. In our land at least, the voice of persecu- 

27 



314 APPENDIX. 

tion has long "been silent. But though your faith cannot now be 
thus tried in reality, did you never in imagination bring your Chris- 
tianity to this test? After having read of the unwavering constancy 
of a Hamilton, or of the still more recent sufferings of a Wishart, 
whose memory yet lives so palpably in all that is around us, did you 
never ask your own hearts the question, " Would I have acted thus?" 
And in the glow of enthusiastic feeling, have you not thought with 
the generous and warm-hearted, yet self-confident apostle, that you 
were ready to follow your Master to prison, and to death ? Like 
Peter, you may indulge in the romantic thought of your attach- 
ment, and your constancy ; without, like him, having your feelings 
tried by the test of stern reality. 

But, though the crown of martyrdom is now placed beyond our 
reach, and in this particular we can no longer drink of the cup 
which Jesus drank, nor be baptized with the baptism which he was 
baptized with, is there no other way in which we can suffer with 
Christ, and consequently reign with him ? Is there no other feature 
of the Saviour's character, whose resemblance we can yet trace upon 
our own ? There is such a feature, one of the most prominent in all 
the mediatorial characters of the Son of God. Not only was he a 
martyr, he was also a missionary. He came on a mission to our 
world. He came to preach the gospel to the poor. He was sent to 
heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and 
recovering of sight to the blind, — to set at liberty them that were 
bruised, — to preach the acceptable year of the Lord. It was for 
this that he left the bosom of the Father. It was for this that he 
emptied himself, and took upon him the form of a slave. It was for 
this that he exchanged a throne of glory for a manger, and the 
praises of sinless angels for the revilings of sinful men. And it is 
in the same cause that the missionary now goes forth, leaving father 
and mother, and houses and lands. 

It has often struck us that those very objections which are now 
urged against the preaching of the gospel to the heathen, might have 
been brought with equal plausibility against the first preaching of 
the gospel to our world. When you have heard the opposers of mis- 
sions argue about the insufficiency of the means for the end in view, 
and in support of this objection, proudly appeal to the fact that 
little has yet been accomplished, did it never occur to you, that 



REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 315 

such, in all probability, would be the reasonings of those who 
opposed the ministry of our Lord and his disciples? 

Just picture to yourself a few poor and illiterate men, with nothing 
that was imposing in their outward appearance, sometimes without 
a place where to lay their head, and sometimes eating of the ears of 
corn, to satisfy their hunger. And when your imagination has filled 
up this outline of apparent meanness and poverty ; just think of the 
mighty revolution which they professed was to be brought about by 
their instrumentality, and you may conceive the sneers of philosophic 
pride with which these professions would be contemplated. You 
may well conceive what would be the feelings of the literati of the 
day ; how they would remember the vain attempts of a Socrates and 
a Plato, and all the master spirits of antiquity, to reform the man- 
ners even of their own countrymen ; and how they would laugh at 
the pretensions of an illiterate tradesman, the son of a common 
mechanic, who professed that the system which he taught should 
one day be acknowledged by the whole world. So much for the 
apparent insufficiency of the means for the end. 

But mark, this was not all. Think again of the little success 
which seemed to accompany his preaching, think of the few follow- 
ers whom he had gathered round him, after spending thirty years 
in the scene of his labours. And think of the inconstancy of these 
few, when the day of persecution arrived. The followers of Socrates 
stood by him, when he drank the fatal cup ; but the disciples of Jesul 
forsook him and fled. Think of his death as a common malefactor ; 
and then can you wonder, if even the most devoted of his followers, 
thought all was over; and if, in the bitterness of their sorrow, 
they confessed to the unknown inquirer that their hopes had died 
with their Master, but that once they " trusted that this had been he 
who should have redeemed Israel V* 

But the opposers of missions tell us, that here the means, though 
apparently inadequate, were not so in reality ; that the men were 
inspired by the Spirit of God. We immediately answer them, by 
applying the very same argument to the operations of the present 
day. The means, though seemingly inadequate, are not so in reality. 
We mean not to say that missionaries are inspired ; but we do mean 
to say, that the Spirit of God accompanies their labours. He who 
gave the command, " Go ye .into all the world, and preach the gos- 



316 APPENDIX. 

pel to every creature :" gave also the promise, "And lo, I am with 
you alway, even unto the end of the world." 

But this has been a digression from our original design, though 
we hope not a useless one. We go on to remark, that as there are 
special promises for the martyr, so are there for the faithful mission- 
ary. And as there was a time when the disciples of Christ were eager 
to wear the crown of martyrdom, so was there a time when the pre- 
tended soldiers of the cross were eager to gain the reward which is 
promised to him who shall leave all for the sake of Christ. There 
was a time when the inhabitants of Europe rushed with one accord, 
to fight in what they deemed, but falsely, the cause of the Saviour. 
So great was the enthusiasm, that in that army there mingled men 
of every rank, and of every condition ; the high and the low. There 
might be seen the crown of royalty, and the coronet of nobility, and 
the crested plume of knighthood, towering above the humbler array 
of the surrounding multitude ; and there, too, might be seen the 
peaceful banner of the cross, floating above those who were soon to 
imbrue their hands in the blood of their fellow-men. That was an 
age of zeal ; but it was also an age of ignorance. The present is an 
age of knowledge : would it were also an age of more fervent zeal. 
The true soldiers of the cross are now going forth to fight ; but they 
wrestle not against flesh and blood. And they have buckled on their 
armour, but it is not a material armour ; and they have taken their 
arms, but they are not carnal weapons. 

But they fight against principalities and powers, against the rulers 
of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high 
places. And they have taken unto them the whole armour of God, 
even the shield of faith, and the breastplate of righteousness, and 
the preparation of the gospel of peace. And they are armed with 
the sword of the Spirit, even the word of God, which is mighty 
through God, to the pulling down of strong-holds. The faithful mis- 
sionary is the true soldier of the cross. It is he that hath left father, 
and mother, and houses, and lands, for Christ's sake and the gospel; 
and to him is the promise of a hundred-fold in this life, and in the 
world to come, life everlasting. 

But as the labours and the sufferings of the missionary resemble 
those of Christ, so shall his reward resemble that of our glorified 
Head. For what is the reward of Christ ? Is it not the souls which 



REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 317 

he has ransomed ? In the prophecy of Isaiah, God is represented as 
thus making a covenant with his Son — 

" If his soul shall make a propitiatory sacrifice, 
He shall see a seed which shall prolong their days. 
And the gracious purpose of Jehovah shall prosper in his hands. 
Of the travail of his soul, he shall see (the fruit) and be satisfied. 
By the knowledge of him shall my servant justify many ; 
For the punishment of their iniquities he shall bear. 
Therefore will I distribute to him the many for his portion. 
And the mighty people shall he share for his spoil." 

Lowth. 

This was the joy that was set before him, for which he endured 
the cross, despising the shame. 

And what is the reward of the minister and the missionary ? Is 
it not the souls whom they have been the instruments of saving? 
" For what," says Paul to the Thessalonians, " for what is our hope, 
or joy, or crown of rejoicing? Are not even ye in the presence of 
our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming? For ye are our glory and 
joy. Thus is it that if we attain unto the kingdom of heaven, the 
souls which we may have been instrumental in saving here, will in 
that day be as a crown of glory around us ; and yet along with our- 
selves, form part of that brighter crown which shall beam around 
the head of our glorified Redeemer : as in our solar system, the satel- 
lites revolve round their respective planets, and yet are with them 
borne in their mightier orbits around that brighter luminary which 
is the centre of the whole. 

There is such a thing as being saved, yet so as by fire ; such a 
thing as being least in the kingdom of heaven : and even this is a 
thought of highest ecstacy ; but there is a thought more ecstatic still. 
It is the thought of an abundant entrance, and an exceeding great 
reward, and a crown of glory that fadeth not away, and a splendour 
like the shining of the stars in the firmament. Yes, to emit the 
faintest ray from that dazzling crown, which shall ever encircle the 
head of the Saviour, is a thought far too glorious for human concep- 
tion ; but there is a thought more glorious still, — to blaze forth, 
the central gem of one of those brilliant clusters, — to add to the 
glory of the Redeemer's diadem, and yet have around us a coronet 
of our own. 

27* 



318 APPENDIX. 

Hitherto we have considered it as a privilege to labour, and to suffer, 
for the sake of Christ; we come now to consider it as a duty. 
Hitherto our attention has been directed to the glorious reward of 
those who shall avail themselves of their privileges ; we come now 
to consider the condemnation of those who shall neglect them. 

We doubt not but there are some who would give a willing assent 
to all that we have advanced ; but who, notwithstanding, would not 
be actuated by these remarks, to a single deed of Christian philan- 
thropy. They think that it may be all very true, that a crown of 
glory is reserved for the martyr and the missionary ; and that a dis- 
tinguished place in the kingdom of heaven will be given to those who 
have been unwearied in their zeal, and patient in their suffering, for 
Christ's sake and the gospel's ; but for their part, they have no such 
ambitious views, they are well content if they can but get to heaven 
at all ; they like to steal quietly along with heaven in view, and not 
to make too much ado about religion. They think it right, indeed, 
to be religious ; but they like not those who are religious over much. 
They do well in saying that they disapprove of ambition ; we know not 
that even with regard to heavenly things, this desire of greatness is 
ever in any shape countenanced in the New Testament. But it is 
not the reward itself which these individuals dislike, it is the suffer- 
ing, and the self-denial which lead to it. And too often is such rea- 
soning employed as an excuse for treating with the most listless 
neglect, all that has a reference to the extension of the kingdom of 
our Lord. 

But there is one circumstance which has always struck us most 
forcibly in reading those allegorical representations of the final 
retribution which are contained in the Bible — a circumstance which 
tells most fearfully against that class of individuals to which we 
have alluded. And it is, that while a greater or a less reward fol- 
lows the improvement of our talents, the simple neglect of these, 
subjects us to a greater condemnation than if we had never enjoyed 
them. While those servants who had gained by the talents bestowed 
upon them, received each a suitable reward, that servant who had 
gained nothing, not only received no reward, but was ordered to be 
cast into outer darkness, where shall be weeping and gnashing of 
teeth. And in that sublime description of our Lord's, where the 
final judgment is brought so vividly before us, the condemned are 



REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 319 

not accused of positive crime, but of conduct altogether of a nega- 
tive nature. And when the Judge pronounces the fearful sentence, 
"Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire;" he does not add 
as the cause of their condemnation, " Because ye imprisoned me." 
It is " because I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat. I was 
thirsty, and ye gave me no drink. I was a stranger, and ye took 
me not in; naked, and ye clothed me not; sick and in prison, 
and ye visited me not." Not only then should we consider as a 
matter of high and distinguished privilege, that we have been en- 
dowed with talents, but also as a thing of deep and fearful respon- 
sibility. 

There are various talents which have been entrusted to our keep- 
ing. Some of us may have received more, and others less ; but we 
shall have all to render an account according to that we have, and 
not according to that which we have not. There is one talent which 
we have all of us received, and that, too, a talent of no common 
value; even that Book which maketh wise unto salvation. This 
wisdom is within the reach of every one of us ; and this wisdom it 
is our duty to send to those who have it not. Or it may be, that, in 
that day there may be some who have been less highly favoured than 
ourselves; but who have more diligently availed themselves of the 
privileges they enjoyed ; who shall bring against us the accusation ; 
u "We were hungering and thirsting after righteousness ; and ye sup- 
plied not our w T ants." 

It is in vain for any one of us to say, that we can do nothing in 
the cause of evangelizing the heathen. We may be able to give but 
little to support the external mechanism ; but there is something 
more required in this mighty work than the mere outward appara- 
tus: even that quickening principle, which of old breathed life into 
the dry bones of the prophet's vision ; and which even now, is ex- 
erted in bidding those live " who are dead in trespasses and sin." 
The Holy Ghost is the gift of prayer. It may be, that we can give 
but little to the support of the outward means ; but we can all pray 
for that life-giving principle, without which, these means will be 
employed in vain. It may be, that we cannot ourselves go forth to 
reap ; but we can, at least, " pray the Lord of the harvest to send 
forth labourers into his harvest." But there are some of us who 
can do more ; to whom there has been entrusted the talent of this 



320 APPENDIX. 

world's wealth. This is an element, my friends, which is absolutely 
necessary to the carrying on of the cause of Christ on earth. It is 
a talent which we have received from God ; and yet how little of it 
is employed in his service. Can it be, that so many millions are 
annually embarked in the uncertain speculations of this world's 
merchandise ; and that a few thousands are all that are employed 
in the service of Him who is the rightful owner of all that we pos- 
sess? Can it be, that so many are willing to lend on the treacher- 
ous security of this world's contracts ; and that there are found so 
few who are willing to lend on the security of His word who can- 
not lie, and who hath promised a hundred-fold in this life, and in 
the world to come life everlasting ? 

But there are some of us who have received talents of a higher 
order still ; talents which might enable us to engage personally in 
the work of missions ; even those mental endowments, which, with 
the teaching of the Holy Spirit, might qualify us for preaching to 
the heathen, the unsearchable riches of Christ. 

It is altogether vain to assert, as some do, that great mental powers 
cannot be profitably employed in preaching to the heathen. It is 
true, there may be some exceptions ; but in the general, we know no 
office in the church of God where the very highest mental attain- 
ments can be more beneficially employed, than in the office, all de- 
spised as it is, of the Christian missionary. 

Mental endowments are gifts, which more than any other, per- 
haps, have been alienated from the service of Him that gave them. 
And it will not be the greatest condemnation of by far the greater 
part of those who have received them, — that they have wrapt them 
in a napkin or buried them m the ground. Not only have they been 
withdrawn from the service of God ; but far too frequently have they 
been employed in the service of his enemies. 

This is the kind of assistance which is most wanted at present in 
the missionary cause. It is not work that is wanting; it is not 
wealth to carry on the work ; it is labourers. 

It was not the hope of rendering any considerable pecuniary 
assistance to missions which induced some of our number to attempt 
the formation of this society ; it was the desire of cultivaing a mis- 
sionary spirit among ourselves. We remembered, that from the 
Halls of Cambridge, there had gone forth the zealous and devoted 



REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 321 

Martjn ; and that a sister University had sent forth a Brown and a 
Buchanan ; and we were not without the hope, that even from this 
remote and hitherto lukewarm corner of our land, there might be 
found some to imitate their honourable, though despised, example. 

This may serve to explain to you why we have already laid out 
so great a portion of our funds in procuring the lives and the writ- 
ings of some of the most distinguished of our missionaries. And 
we are sure, that there are few who can peruse the diary of a 
Brainerd, or a Martyn, without being animated with something of 
that devoted spirit which animated these illustrious servants of our 
God. 

But we fear, lest it may be thought by some, that these remarks 
savour too much of selfishness ; that we have held up as an incite- 
ment to exertion, the hope of glory, and the fear of condemnation. 

Well do we know, that if the love of Christ constrain us not to 
live not unto ourselves, but to him that died for us, then all other 
inducements will be utterly powerless. But in this age of antino- 
mian delusion, when religion has, among one class of our com- 
munity, been transformed into a thing of definitions and cold specu- 
lation ; and, when, among another, it has dwindled into a thing of 
mere feeling and poetic sentiment ; we deem it right to bring for- 
ward those passages of the Bible which bear most directly upon our 
conduct. 

For how often in these days of cold and heartless profession, do 
we meet with those who have the most perfect knowledge of all that 
is orthodox, and all that is Calvinistic ; who can argue most ingeni- 
ously about all the dark and doubtful points of theology ; whose 
heads have been stuffed with the dogmas and the disputations of a 
speculative divinity ; but whose hearts have never been reached by 
the melting declarations of the gospel. 

These are willing to talk and debate about religion ; and they are 
willing, perhaps, to speculate about the possibility or impossibility 
of their salvation to whom the glad tidings of the gospel never came. 
But if, on the ground of the uncertainty of the question, you urge 
home upon them, the duty of sending instruction to the heathen ; 
and if you but mention Bible or Missionary Societies, immediately 
are they ready to silence your every argument by their usual cant 
charges of fanaticism and enthusiasm. 



322 APPENDIX. 

How often, on the other hand, do we meet with those whose religion 
is not indeed so cold, but altogether as lifeless ; with those who are 
loud in the praise of benevolence, and who are ever saying to the 
poor, Be ye warmed, and be ye fed ; whose tenderest emotions are 
excited by the recital of some tale of imaginary woe ; but who would 
think the lofty dreams of their sentimentalism degraded by being 
brought in contact with what they reckon the grossness of real life. 
And how lamentable is it to think, that, in this class of individuals, 
we can sometimes meet with those who can talk, and who can write, 
the most pathetically about the misery and the degradation of the 
heathen ; and who can yet demonstrate by their own deeds, that the 
religion of the Bible has even less influence upon themselves than 
the mock morality of the Koran on the followers of Mahomet, or the 
fables of the Shaster on the deluded votary of Brahma. 

This admirable essay, with another, which will afterwards come 
in, illustrates more powerfully than any description of mine, the 
character and talents of the writer. His knowledge of the Scrip- 
tures, and the ease with which he reasons upon them, are extra- 
ordinary in a boy of his years. Human teaching could not have 
produced such excellence as is here displayed. The subject is a 
difficult, and, in some respects, an original one; yet he discusses 
it like a person familiar with it, and who had devoted to it ; the 
leisure and the application of years. 

It affords the most decisive proof that his zeal was not the sud- 
den excitement of passion, or that temporary and often violent 
heat, which is put forth by a young convert : which is sometimes 
in the reverse ratio of the light which is possessed ; and, there- 
fore, as ephemeral in its duration as it is unproductive of solid 
benefit to the individual himself and to others. It is good to be 
zealously affected in a good thing. But it is always desirable that 
zeal should be according to knowledge ; and that the flame should 
be clear as well as ardent. Such was the case of my young 
friend. His warmth arose from those doctrines which he so well 
understood, and the influence of which must ever be powerful on 
those who really believe them. The love of Christ to himself, 



REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 323 

brought along with it, the most devoted gratitude in return. And 
perceiving that the manifestations of Christ's love, in devoting 
himself for the salvation of the world, are recorded, not only to 
be the foundation of our faith towards God, but to be the example 
and the excitement of the same principle in us, he felt called 
upon to give his talents and his life to the same cause. Is this 
fanaticism ? Then was it fanaticism which led the Son of God 
to give his life a ransom for many. It was fanaticism which sent 
the apostles round the world on a mission of benevolence. It was 
fanaticism which influenced the confessors and martyrs of primi- 
tive times to sacrifice all things for their Master's sake, and "for 
the elect's sake, that they might obtain the salvation which is in 
Christ Jesus with eternal glory." 

It is far easier on Christian principles to defend the utmost 
degree of self-devotion in the work of disseminating the gospel, 
than it is to defend the sincerity of men who call themsehres 
Christians, and yet remain cold, selfish, and worldly. For the 
highest ardour — for what may be even called the extravagance 
of zeal, it is easy to find not only an apology, but a justification 
in the principles and hopes of the gospel. But it is passing 
strange, that men should conceive themselves to be Christians, 
while they " live to themselves," and are equally regardless of 
what is due to consistency, to the honour of Christ, and to the 
claims of a perishing world. It is not necessary that every 
Christian should become a missionary to the heathen, but it is 
necessary that every Christian should consider himself the Lord's, 
and that he is as much bound to propagate the faith of Christ, as 
were the primitive believers. No obligation lay on them which does 
not devolve on us; and it is only in as far as we adopt their 
maxims and imbibe their spirit, that we can expect at last to share 
their reward. 

There is reason to fear that the New Testament doctrine of 
future rewards and punishments is very imperfectly understood 
by many Christians. They use the terms, heaven, eternal life, 



324 APPENDIX, 

the crown of glory, and other corresponding expressions, in a 
vague and indefinite manner. Their hopes and expectations seem 
to be exceedingly low, and to produce a proportionately feeble 
influence on their minds and conduct. Christianity is not suffi- 
ciently their life ; and, hence, they find it necessary to repair too 
much to other sources of enjoyment. 

With them, the escape from future punishment, and the pos- 
session of heaven, considered as a state of entire freedom from 
suffering, is the ne plus ultra of hope. The idea of a scale of 
reward scarcely enters into their mind, much less that this scale 
will be regulated by the degree in which the character is in this 
world conformed to that of Christ. Hence the satisfaction with 
themselves which is felt even when much that is evil exists. 
Hence the indifference to eminent degrees of labour, self-denial, 
and holiness, which so generally prevails. And, hence the little 
attention which is paid to some of the most interesting views of 
future glory which the Scriptures present. 

The doctrine of grace is thus unconsciously perverted by many. 
They seem to think that doctrine not only at variance with human 
merit, but with degrees of glory proportioned to the degrees of 
Christian excellence. They regard the arrangements of eternity 
as so arbitrary that they have little or no connection with the 
transactions of time. They imagine that the thief on the cross 
will not only be saved, but may shine with as bright a lustre as 
the apostle of the Gentiles. Is not this forgetting that the for- 
giveness of the kingdom of heaven is a very different thing from 
the rewards of that kingdom ? The former having a reference to 
the evil which is common to all, necessarily places all in the same 
state ; the latter having respect to what is good, or to positive 
conformity to the will of God, must be proportioned to the degree 
in which it exists. 

In this constitution there is not only a recognition of the prin- 
ciple of grace, but a very high display of it. To the merit of the 
atonement, and to the influences of the Divine Spirit, we are in- 



REWARDS AND PUXISH3IEXTS. 325 

debted for all our positive goodness, and for the acceptance 
of all our services. To his own gift, therefore, we are pre- 
viously indebted for all our hopes of distinction in his hea- 
venly kingdom, and to encourage the highest possible cultivation 
of the benefits which he bestows, and of the opportunities of use- 
fulness which he presents, he graciously engages to reward every 
attempt to glorify his name. The idea of merit is for ever ex- 
cluded by the infinite disproportion which obtains between the 
service and the reward, We are so treated as to be left through 
eternity with a perpetually increasing and accumulating debt, to 
the infinite grace and love of God. 

It is impossible to entertain this idea of future glory, without 
experiencing its elevating and stimulating effects. It is not neces- 
sary to restrict it to missionary labours ; nor was this the object 
of the writer, in this admirable essay. It applies to all the 
branches of Christianity; and to all the engagements of Christian 
enterprise. In whatever way an individual may most fully live 
to the Lord, most entirely exercise the self-denial which the gos- 
pel inculcates, and most clearly evince the hallowed nature of his 
principles, he may receive the promised boon. Urquhart believed 
that a missionary life was the course in which he might most 
satisfactorily and honourably discharge his obligations to the 
Saviour, and deserve his approbation. Believing this, he devoted 
himself to it, and only parted with his determination thus to 
glorify his Redeemer, with life itself. TVith him these views 
were not a beautiful speculation, but living and efficient princi- 
ples. They influenced his studies, his dispositions, his pursuits. 
They raised him above the low ambition, and the petty warfare 
of the earth. They fixed his hopes on the enjoyments of a purer 
region ; and stimulated his exertions by the prospect of a crown 
of incorruptible glory. 



28 



326 APPENDIX. 



E. 



ESSAY ON THE DISTINCTION BETWEEN PRODUCTIVE AND UN- 
PRODUCTIVE LABOUR. 

That there is some distinction between what Dr. Smith calls pro- 
ductive, and what he terms unproductive labour, we think every one 
must allow ; and that it consists in this, that the former produces 
something which the latter does not produce, it must, we think, be 
as readily admitted. The question comes to be, "What is the some- 
thing V If all that Dr. Smith means by this distinction be, that 
the one produces something which is tangible, while the produce of 
the other is something too ethereal and too evanescent to be laid 
hold of, we perfectly agree with him. We think his distinction a 
very just, but at the same time a very useless one; and, in our 
opinion, he might as well have amused us by a further subdivision 
of labour, according as its produce was hard or soft, liquid or solid. 
But this is not Dr. Smith's meaning; and, on appealing to his defi- 
nition we find, that he founds this distinction on the supposition, 
that " the one sort of labour adds to the value of the subject on 
which it is bestowed; and that the other has no such effect; that 
the one produces a value, the other does not." The distinction seems 
now to turn on the meaning of the word value ; and, on referring to 
a former definition to explain the present one, we do not find much 
light thrown on the subject. We are merely told of a value in use, 
and a value in exchange. If we take the latter of these and apply 
it to the subject under consideration, we shall find that the one kind 
of labour produces a value just as much as the other ; for the mu- 
sician receives his subsistence in return for his labour in playing 
tunes ; just as much as the tailor does, in return for his labour, in 
making clothes. But it may be said, that Dr. Smith terms a certain 
kind of labour unproductive because it produces no value in use. 
But this cannot have been the cause of the distinction ; for, while 
on the one hand this objection does not apply to all the kinds of 
labour which he has termed unproductive, it, on the other hand, 
does apply to some of those which he has denominated productive. 



ESSAY ON LABOUR. 327 

The terms wealth and value seem to us to be very indefinite ; and 
to depend very much on the circumstances and the taste of the in- 
dividual in reference to whom they are mentioned. The clothing 
which is so valuable to the inhabitant of Europe, would add nothing 
to the comfort of the naked inhabitant of New Zealand, and would 
consequently be of little value to him. And the antique vase which 
would be so highly valued by the curious antiquarian, may be 
thoughtlessly destroyed by the less refined peasant who digs it up. 

Thirty or forty years ago, a stock of shoe-buckles would have 
been an addition to the real wealth of this country ; at present, they 
would be valuable only for the material which composes them ; and 
those who should now be employed in working them up, instead of 
adding, would, in fact, detract from the value of the subject on which 
their labour was bestowed. We have therefore the definition of value 
or wealth confined between two limits, and we shall come to a suffi- 
ciently correct, if not a sufficiently comprehensive notion of what 
that is which constitutes wealth or value, if we can but discover 
what that is which existed in these shoe-buckles thirty or forty years 
ago, and which does not exist at present. They are as substantially 
material now as they were before. Were they manufactured, there 
would be as much labour wrought up in them as ever, and the only 
change that we know of, that has taken place with regard to them 
is, that they were in fashion then, and they are so no longer ; they 
cannot now minister to the enjoyment of the community. So that 
we must conclude, that these commodities, or any other commodi- 
ties whatever, which are the produce of labour, form a part of the 
wealth of a country, just because they minister, in some way or other, 
to the convenience or enjoyment of its inhabitants ; and because, 
since they are the produce of the labour of man, they must have an 
exchangeable value, if there be any demand for them. 

Now it seems to us remarkably unfair, that of two men, whose 
labour has precisely the same effect on the wealth of the society, 
the one should be denominated a productive, and the other an un- 
productive labourer, merely because the labour of the former is 
realized in some material commodity, while that of the lattar is not; 
that, of two men, for example, the object of both of whom it is 
to minister to the enjoyment of society, by furnishing them with 
music, he who makes a musical instrument should be called a pro- 



328 APPENDIX. 

ductive labourer, while he who performs upon that instrument, and 
but for whom it could have no value whatever, is stigmatized with 
the epithet of unproductive. 

By Dr. Smith it is asserted, that the former of these individuals 
produces a value, while the other does not. Now, if in this respect 
there be any difference at all between them, it seems to us to be, 
that the one needs materials to work upon, while the other does not; 
that the one merely adds to the value of what was valuable before, 
while the other creates a value altogether ; that the maker of the 
instrument merely increases by his labour the value of brass and 
wood, and other exchangeable commodities, while the performer on 
the instrument gives a value to the unbought air of Heaven ; and on 
this account, were we to make any distinction, should we deem the 
labour of the latter to be much more productive than that of the 
former. / 

But it may be said that this is a mere cavilling about words. It 
must be remembered, however, that words are the symbols of ideas, 
and that the sign necessarily affects the thing signified. The very 
distinction against which we have been arguing, seems to have con- 
fused the views of our great author through the whole of his chapter 
on labour. After having once associated, with a certain kind of 
labour, the idea of unproductiveness, he seems ever after to have 
contemplated it with an evil eye, and to have loaded it with the bur- 
den not only of its own faults, but also of those which did not be- 
long to it. 

Through the whole chapter there seems to run a confused notion 
of a subsisting connection between expenditure and the support of 
unproductive labour, and a connection, on the other hand, between 
the employment of productive labour and the accumulation of stock. 
And thus it is that Dr. Smith attributes to the supporting of unpro- 
ductive labour all those evils which are the result of prodigality and 
extravagance. 

It is some indistinct idea of a connection between the employment 
of productive labourers and the accumulation of capital which Dr. 
Smith entertains, where he tells us, that " a man grows rich by em- 
ploying a multitude of manufacturers, while every body knows that 
a man may waste his whole fortune in the purchase of manufactured 



ESSAY ON LABOUR. 329 

commodities ; and thus, far from growing rich, may ruin himself, — 
just by employing a multitude of manufacturers." 

The same confused ideas seem to have clouded our author's un- 
derstanding, when he wrote the following sentences : — 

" Whatever part of his stock a man employs as a capital, he 
always expects it to be replaced to him with profit. He employs it, 
therefore, in maintaining productive hands only. Whenever he em- 
ploys any part of it in maintaining unproductive hands of any kind, 
that part is from that moment withdrawn from his capital, and 
placed in his stock received for immediate consumption." 

If a person worth 1000Z. can employ it in two ways, he can either 
on the one hand, employ it as a capital, either directly, or through 
the medium of the bank ; or, on the other hand, he can use it as a 
stock reserved for immediate consumption. In either of these ways 
I can employ it in supporting indifferently either productive or un- 
productive hands ; and it does not appear that my success or my 
failure will be at all necessarily influenced by this circumstance. If 
I use it as a capital I may choose to embark it in some manufactur- 
ing or mercantile speculation, and thus employ productive labourers ; 
or I may become the manager of a theatre, and thus take into my 
service a number of unproductive hands. And this last scheme 
may be just as profitable, or even more so than the other. 

On the other hand, I may use the whole of my fortune, or too 
great a part of it, as a stock reserved for immediate consumption ; 
and, if I do so, I shall most certainly go to ruin, whether I spend it 
in the employment of productive or unproductive hands. In such a 
case it will not be the direction, but the amount of my expenditure, 
that will bring me to beggary. 

But it may go far to demonstrate the absurdity of upholding the 
distinction between productive and unproductive labour, if we can 
show that one of those whom Dr. Smith most unequivocally sets 
down among his unproductive labourers, can be transferred without 
any change in his occupation from the service of the spendthrift to 
that of the capitalist ; for we shall thus prove, first, that he has be- 
come a productive labourer, as Dr. Smith tells us, that " that part 
of the annual produce of the land a^d labour of any country which 
replaces a capital, never is immediately employed to maintain any 

28* 



330 APPENDIX. 

but productive hands." It pays the wages, he says, of productive 
labour only. 

Now, let us suppose that a musical amateur has so impoverished 
himself by maintaining a full band of performers for his own enter- 
tainment, that he finds himself almost ruined by his extravagance ; 
but that rather than give up this his favourite amusement, he re- 
solves, with the wreck of his fortune, to set up an opera, and offers 
to retain in his professional capacity still, those performers who had 
hitherto ministered to his private enjoyment. And, we may sup- 
pose, still further that they accept of his terms, and that matters go 
on so well, that he recruits his fortune by the profits of this specu- 
lation. There does not seem any thing very improbable in all this, 
— the difficulty is to reconcile it with Dr. Smith's chapter. 

These men are now supported by capital, and therefore are pro- 
ductive labourers ; but they are musicians, and therefore are unpro- 
ductive labourers. Again ; they ruined their employer, and there- 
fore a man may grow poor by employing unproductive labourers, 
but they have also again enriched their employer ; and therefore a 
man may accumulate capital by employing unproductive labourers. 

There does not seem then to be any real distinction between pro- 
ductive and unproductive labour ; and even supposing that there is, 
there seems to be no good reason for Dr. Smith's idea of a necessary 
connection between the employment of unproductive labour and 
expenditure, or between that of productive labour and the accumu- 
lation of stock. 

Dr. Smith seems to have gone on with the popular idea, that 
wealth consists only in material commodities, without much consid- 
eration ; and the wonder is, not that in one or two instances his 
acute understanding has been misled, but that in by far the greater 
number he has so successfully succeeded in clearing away the mists 
of popular prejudice and error. 

Even with regard to the definition of wealth, it seems to have been 
our author's own opinion, had he kept by it, that it was not confined 
to material objects. Had Dr. Smith but remembered his own aphor- 
ism, that " every man is rich or poor according to the degree in 
which he can afford to enjoy the necessaries, conveniences, and 
amusements of life ;" and had he, by his usual train of reasoning, 



WRITTEN LANGUAGE. 331 

generalized this proposition, by applying to the whole community 
what may be said of every one of its members, we should in all pro- 
bability never have heard of productive or unproductive labour. 



F. 

ON WRITTEN LANGUAGE. 



The acknowledged priority of spoken to written language, appears 
to us a very decisive argument for the divine origin of the latter. 

Among those who hold that language is a mere human invention, 
there have been two opinions, some maintaining that substantives, 
or the names of external objects would be the words first invented, 
and others holding that verbs or words expressive of the mutual 
relations of objects, must have existed anterior to these, as an indi- 
vidual would not think of naming an object, until he had been in 
some way or other affected by its properties. On either of these 
hypotheses, it seems to us very obvious, that it would occur much 
more readily to the mind of a savage to represent his ideas by forms 
than by sounds. If he wished to particularize any object that was 
near, he would point to it; and if he wished to express the relation 
between any two objects, he would, in all probability, point first to 
the one, and then to the other; or, if the objects were movable, he 
might express the same idea by bringing them into actual contact. 

Were these objects removed from his view, so that he could no 
longer express his idea by pointing to them, the most natural re- 
source that could occur to him, would be to produce, if possible, a 
resemblance to the objects, and now to point to these, as he had 
formerly done to the objects themselves. 

As there are comparatively few objects that utter sound ; and as 
the sounds cannot be distinctly imitated by human voice ; and, as on 
the other hand, all external objects have a form which can in gene- 
ral be easily represented, it would probably occur to him, that to 
delineate the absent objects would be the best method of represent- 
ing them. If he wished to express some relation existing between 



332 APPENDIX. 

two objects, he would express the idea as before, by representing 
the symbols of two objects in a state of contact. 

Thus, had man been the inventor of language, we should have ex- 
pected that at first men would have expressed their ideas by written 
symbols accompanied by gestures, and now and then perhaps by the 
utterance of such articulate sounds, as evidently resembled the idea 
they intended to express. But quite the reverse of this is admitted 
by those who maintain that language is of human origin, and while 
they do not deny that a slight degree of civilization is necessary be- 
fore men begin to express their ideas by symbols, which bear some 
resemblance to the objects they are intended to represent, these 
philologists are guilty of very gross inconsistency in attributing to 
the most barbarous savages, a discovery of a much higher order, 
even the discovery of spoken language, where ideas are represented 
by sounds almost entirely arbitrary. 

On this subject, as on most others, men of different parties seem 
to have run into opposite extremes. Some of the advocates of reve- 
lation, thinking they perceived it clearly declared there, that lan- 
guage is of divine origin, jealous of the least infringement on the 
authority of the sacred volume, have attempted to prove the un- 
qualified proposition, that language is the gift of God. A hold has 
thus been given to their opponents, as it is evident from the "very 
nature of the expressions, that many, if not most of the words in 
every language have been invented by man. The mere philologist 
again, in attempting to philosophize on language as a mere human 
invention, has landed himself in the absurdity of attributing the 
sublime discovery of the power of speech, to an age confessedly too 
barbarous to make the much more simple discovery of symbolical 
language. Revelation and sound philosophy in this case, as in all 
others, are at one. Language was originally the gift of God, and no 
doubt, for a considerable time, the same language. It may have 
been a language of the simplest kind, and in all probability was so. 
And yet, although there had been no multiplying of the languages 
of the earth, and the passage of Scripture in reference to this bears 
another signification which has been sometimes assigned to it, that 
" God confounded their works ;" still we say, from this one original 
tongue, there may easily have emerged all the languages on the face 
of our earth. When we consider the great changes that have taken 



WRITTEN LANGUAGE. 333 

place in modern languages in a comparatively short time, how easy 
would it be for a language to be entirely changed, when there was 
almost no communication between different countries ? 

On the supposition that language is of human origin, we should 
be inclined to favour the former of these hypotheses, although we] 
confess, from the very able treatise on this subject which was de- 
livered a few weeks ago from our Humanity Chair, we had almost 
been led to give the preference to the latter. Place a number of 
children in a room by themselves, say the advocates of the first 
hypothesis, and the first thing they would set about, would be, to 
give names to the objects around them. This, however, say those 
who hold by the other supposition, suppose that the children have 
been previously acquainted with language. Were it otherwise, no 
child would give a name to an object, until it had, in some way or 
other, affected his own person, and then he would name the object 
from its felt effects. Thus, it is said, he would call fire the burner, 
water the cooler, &c. 

There is a difficulty, however, connected with this hypothesis, not- 
withstanding its plausibility, which would lead us, were we at all 
inclined to think language a human invention, to give the preference 
to the other. Before the child could make his companions under- 
stand what was meant by the name burner, he must have first com- 
municated to them the meaning of the verb to burn. 

J|C 5J» 5J» JJC JjS 5JC 

In the discussions of Political Economy, the subject of ecclesi- 
astical establishments necessarily finds a place. Dr. Chalmers 
naturally and properly discusses them in his prelections. Though 
unacquainted with the arguments employed in his lectures to his 
class, those who have read his volumes on " Christian and Civic 
Economy/' cannot be altogether ignorant of his views. Those 
volumes I have read with some attention, and greatly admire the 
ingenious and often conclusive reasonings of their eloquent and 
candid author on many of the points which he discusses. But I 
do not hesitate to say, that on his own principles as a political 
economist, he begs the question in regard to civil establishments 
of religion ) he assumes what he ought first to have proved, and 



334 APPENDIX. 

reasons on premises not sufficiently established. And, if certain 
data laid down by himself be incontrovertible, the defence of such 
institutions is, in my opinion, rendered impracticable. If boun- 
ties and drawbacks are invaribly injurious to commerce ; if char- 
tered companies and monopolies are destructive to the natural 
operations of enterprise and labour : if fair trade, and fair compe- 
tition, ought to be allowed and encouraged in regard to all other 
things, I do not perceive how religion should be excluded from 
the same benefit. With the religious question I have here 
nothing to do ; that rests on different principles, and must be 
met on different grounds. But I am not the only person who 
wishes most ardently that Dr. Chalmers would fairly meet the 
subject on its true merits as a question of Political Economy. 
He will forgive me for saying, in this public manner, what I know 
to be the opinion of many of his own pupils, as well as of others, 
that he is called upon to do so : for, if his politico-economical 
principles should be once firmly fixed in this country, they would do 
more to lessen and destroy the faith of the country in the neces- 
sity and beneficial tendency of church establishments, than any 
other thing. 

I am led to make these observations, by finding among the 
papers of my young friend, a fragment on this subject, which 
refers to the views and reasonings of Dr. Chalmers, and which 
shows, while it shows no more, that they had not produced con- 
viction on his mind. The truly catholic spirit of the writer is 
strongly marked ; and I can only regret that the paper was left 
unfinished. 

ON RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS. 

In the history of nations, we often find that those states which 
had been united in the closest alliance by the approach of some 
common enemy, have no sooner succeeded in their efforts to repel 
him, than there have again burst forth between them those ancient 
feuds and dissensions which the common danger had for a while 



RELIGIOUS ESTABLISHMENTS. 335 

extinguished. And such too has been the case among different sects 
of Christians. The doctrines of Christianity are of such a nature, 
that in order to experience their efficacy we must judge of them for 
ourselves. They cannot, like algebra and political economy, be 
transmitted unaltered from one mind to another. All those who 
give sufficient attention to a mathematical problem, however varied 
may be the conformation of their minds, will come exactly to the 
same conclusion. Such truths are not affected by the peculiar con- 
formation of the mind through which they pass. But it is quite the 
reverse with the truths of Christianity. And, accordingly, though 
we may find many whose philosophical or political creed agrees in 
every iota, yet we know not if there can be found any two Christians 
whose theological views entirely coincide. Were every one to resolve 
to hold communion with none but those whose theological creed in 
every point coincided with his own, there would in all likelihood, be 
in the Christian Church, nearly as many sects as there are members. 

They are only the externals of Christianity, however, about which 
Christians are divided ; concerning those grand doctrines which dis- 
tinguish it from every other religion, they are perfectly agreed. In 
times of persecution, accordingly, we find, that their petty differ- 
ences are forgotten, and they rally with one accord to defend the 
bulwarks of their common faith. And no sooner was our land 
favoured with the inestimable blessing of religious toleration, than 
religionists began to be divided into different sects or parties. This 
of itself, however distressing it may appear at first sight, we con- 
sider as a matter of rejoicing, rather than regret. 

There seems to be a final cause in even this imperfection of our 
Christian knowledge. There is a generous emulation thus main- 
tained in the walks of Christianity, and a greater provoking of one 
another to good works, than if all were perfectly agreed. But there 
is a spirit of sectarianism, which, in this state of things, is too apt 
to break forth among all parties, — a desire to magnify those matters 
about which Christians differ, and thereby to forget those sublimer 
truths concerning which they are agreed. 

It must be matter of regret to every one of a really catholic spirit, 
and who has the interests of genuine religion seriously at heart, that 
so much has been said, and so much has been written about the 
merest trifles in the externals of Christianity, while those who have 



336 APPENDIX. 

been keenest in the controversy have frequently been forgetful of 
those grander truths, which imparted to the matters about which 
they were contending, all their weight and all their importance. In- 
significant and unimportant, however, as we believe these matters 
to be, when compared with the vital doctrines of Christianity ; yet, 
viewed abstractly, or, in comparison of earthly things, we deem 
them of the highest and most serious import. While it seems most 
imperiously our duty to attend to the spiritual things of religion, it 
seems equally our duty not to neglect those external regulations 
which are intended to preserve the purity and spirituality of our 
faith. 

Of all those inferior points about which Christians disagree, the 
question of religious establishments is perhaps the most important. 
We confess that, from our education, all our prejudices have been 
against church establishments ; and it is, perhaps, on this account 
that that powerful argumentation, which has appeared so luminous 
and so satisfactory to others, has failed to produce upon our mind 
the same effect. It has very much enlightened, but it has not con- 
vinced us. We waive, at present, the consideration of any religious 
establishments that have ever existed, or of our national establish- 
ments as they exist at present. 

****** 



ON THE LOVE OF FAME. 
"And seekest thou great things for thyself?" &c. 



Jeremiah. 



I have often thought it peculiarly interesting to compare that 
morality which is to be found in the systems of ancient philosophy, 
with the morality which is contained in the Bible ; to see the heart 
of man still reflecting, though dimly and imperfectly, that image 
which was stamped upon it at first ; to observe the harmonious ac- 
cordance which obtains between the law that is written in the heart, 
and the law which has been revealed to us by the Spirit of God, and 
thus to identify that God who hath formed the heart of man, with 



LOVE OF FAME, 337 

that God, who, in times past, spake unto the fathers by the prophets; 
and who hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son. 

Some of these theories of the ancients are so beautiful, and so 
perfect, that we are apt to feel disappointed that their practical in- 
fluence was not extensively and powerfully felt. But we shall not 
wonder at this, if we consider how difficult it is to arrest the atten- 
tion by abstract truths ; and how little of practical efficacy there is 
in such truths, even when most fully apprehended. To cultivate 
any feeling, we must not look to the feeling itself, but to the object 
which naturally excites it. And in this point of view we may be- 
hold the vast superiority of the Christian religion, to every other, 
as a system of practical morality. 

Here the abstract principles of natural religion are embodied in 
facts : and all that we have to do is to direct the attention to these 
facts, and the proper state of feeling is the invariable and immediate 
result. 

But not only are the symptoms of the ancient philosophers de- 
ficient in practical efficacy; they are even imperfect as theories of 
morality. Pure and elevated as they appear, when viewed ab- 
stractly and in themselves, they cannot stand a comparison with that 
purer system which has been given us by revelation. 

To most of the precepts which are given us in the Bible, we can 
find some counterpart in the writings of heathen philosophers ; but 
there is one virtue which we hesitate not to say, is more frequently 
inculcated in the Bible, than any other, for a counterpart to which 
you may search the whole writings of ancient philosophy, and find 
nothing that bears to it the most distant resemblance. Never did 
there come from the pen of a heathen, sentiments like those con- 
tained in our motto : " Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek 
them not." It is a very striking fact, that, in the language of Greece 
and Eome, there is not a word to express humility as a virtue: those 
words which are generally used signify rather meanness, and that 
crouching to power, which is the feeling not of a humble, but of a 
dastardly spirit. On the other hand, pride and haughtiness were 
considered as the concomitants of prowess and bravery ; and hence 
the heroes of ancient poetry are generally furnished with an abun- 
dant portion of both. 
Yes, that vice which we inherit from the author of our misery^ 

29 



338 APPENDIX. 

lurks too successfully in the recesses of the human bosom, to be dis- 
covered by the light of reason alone ; it requires a more searching 
scrutiny to drag it from that place, while it has taken up its abode 
in the inmost penetralia of our souls. In the present depraved state 
of the human heart, it is difficult to distinguish between those de- 
sires and propensities which may have once been pure, but which, 
at the fall, were perverted ; and those which are radically evil, and 
which could not have existed in the heart of man, in his state of 
original purity. Without hesitation, we would class pride in the 
latter division, as a feeling altogether of demoniacal origin ; and 
which could not exist in the mind of a pure and holy being. 

But though we can thus give a most unhesitating deliverance with 
regard to this vice itself, there are some of its modifications about 
which we cannot pronounce so decidedly. The desire of fame, and 
the desire of power, and all that is described in our text by the seek- 
ing after great things, have so often been declared by our theologi- 
cal writers to be innocent, if not laudable propensities, that we 
almost feel as if it were presumption for us to give it as our opinion, 
that they are inimical to the spirit of true religion. 

It may be true, that such feelings existed in the bosom of our first 
parents, before their expulsion from the blissful abodes of Eden . 
and that they vied with each other to gain the favour and applause 
perhaps of their God. And it may be true, that there is among 
the angels a generous emulation, to provoke each other to good 
works ; but still we think it true, that in our present condition, it is 
extremely dangerous, if not sinful, to give way to this propensity. 

It may be argued, indeed, that the love of praise operates as a 
very powerful principle in restraining many of the fiercer passions, 
and that without it the moral world would soon become a scene of 
wild confusion and disorder ; but in the same manner might we 
plead for anger and selfishness, and even avarice itself. These are 
all very powerful checks in restraining many of our grosser propen- 
sities, and to them we are indebted for many of the decencies which 
adorn civilized society ; but who would make this a plea for their 
virtuousness ? 

There is one circumstance which makes the love of fame a very 
dangerous propensity ; it is the very low standard of virtue which 
generally prevails in the world. Were the standard a perfect one, 



LOVE OF FAME. 339 

then would the case be different. He only would be praised, who 
was truly virtuous, and the love of fame would be identical with 
the love of virtue. But this, alas, is not the case. The men of the 
world have fixed on a standard of virtue convenient for themselves ; 
and whoever by his actions goes beyond this standard, tacitly pro- 
nounces condemnation upon them, and most assuredly will meet 
with their hatred and disapprobation. It is thus that the most vir- 
tuous in all ages have been met with ignominy and contempt. And 
it is thus that this deference to the opinion of the world has diverted 
many from the conscientious performance of what they knew to be 
right. 

Thus, even in a worldly point of view, and considered merely as 
an abstract question in morals, would we consider the opinions of 
our fellow-men a most improper standard whereby to regulate our 
actions. But when we add yet another element, and consider the 
subject as it bears upon our religious character, — when we consider 
it not only as it affects our duty to our fellow-men, but as it affects 
our duty to God, we shall feel that to make the praise of men the 
standard of our conduct is still more dangerous. 

The love of praise is, perhaps, an original principle of our con- 
stitution ; and if it be, then it were vain to attempt its annihilation. 
Nor is this required of us. All that we are bid to do in the Bible, 
is to give it a new direction. And the condemnation of the Phari- 
sees of old, was not that they loved praise, but that they loved the 
praise of men more than the praise of God. 

We know of no feeling in our constitution which is stronger, 
which is more difficult to overcome than the love of fame, or the love 
of praise, for we hold them to be very nearly the same. So strong 
is it, that it is capable of carrying us through the greatest difficul- 
ties and dangers, of enabling us to persevere in the most unwearied 
exertion, and urging us onward even to death itself. 

What is it that animates the breast of the enterprising traveller, 
in his laborious researches ? 

****** 



340 APPENDIX. 

G. 

DISCOURSE ON 2 CORINTHIANS iv. 13. 

"We having the same spirit of faith, according as it is written, I believed, 
and therefore hate I spoken ; we also believe, and therefore speak." 

There is a common proverb, that " the truth should not be always 
told." In other words, that it is not always a good reason for speak- 
ing that we believe. Although apparently at first sight a little para- 
doxical, this saying will be found like most other proverbs, to em- 
body the wisdom of very extensive experience. 

There are some truths which concern only a few individuals, and 
in which the rest of mankind have no interest whatever. If there 
be nothing absolutely wrong, there is at least something very trifling 
in publishing such matters. And you cannot, perhaps, pitch upon 
a character more universally despised, than that of the busy-body or 
the tell-tale. Yet each of these deservedly detested characters, 
could, perhaps, allege in excuse for all his silly conversation, that 
he spoke because he believed. 

There are other truths which, it would be not only idle and im- 
proper, but which it might be cruel, or even criminal to promulgate. 
That man could have but little tenderness or humanity in his dis- 
position, who should assiduously relate the disgraces, or the crimes 
of a departed parent, to the surviving children ; and we would not 
hesitate to pronounce it a breach of the second great commandment 
of the law, to expose to public view the defects in the private charac- 
ter of our neighbour. You are aware, indeed, that the latter action 
not only is a palpable transgression of the law of God, but comes 
under the cognizance even of human jurisprudence. Truth is a 
libel ; and it would be no excuse in a court of justice, for the defamer 
of his neighbour's good name to affirm, that he had published only 
what he had good ground to believe. 

You perceive then, that the quality of the motive which Paul 
affirms to have actuated him in his public speaking, and in his writ- 
ings, must depend upon the character of those truths, which he so 
assiduously proclaimed. If they were truths which concerned only 



DISCOURSE ON FAITH. 341 

a few individuals, or which, if they had a reference to all, were of 
comparatively insignificant importance, then it was folly in Paul to 
labour so hard, and to suffer so much to proclaim them ; and, not- 
withstanding all the cogency of his reasoning, and the sublimity of 
his eloquence, we should, in such a case, be tempted to concur in 
the opinion of the eastern ruler, that after all he was but a learned 
madman. 

If, again, the truths which Paul preached tended only to harrow 
up the feelings of mankind, and to destroy what might be but early 
prejudices, but yet prejudices with which those whom they in- 
fluenced had associated all that they held dear as patriots, and all 
that they thought sacred in religion : if these truths tended only to 
bring to light evils that had long been hidden, and which had even 
by the common consent of mankind been carefully concealed : if, 
finally, they tended only to demonstrate to mankind that their wis- 
dom was folly, and that their boasted virtue which they had hoped 
would open for them the gates of heaven, not only was altogether 
unable to expiate their crimes, but was itself too much tainted with 
impurity to find acceptance before God : if this alone was the ten- 
dency of the truths which Paul preached, it was more than folly — 
it was cruelty to proclaim them. Better far for the world, they had 
never been promulgated. 

But I need not tell you that the doctrines which Paul preached 
were of a far different character. 

It is true that they directly tended to produce all the seeming 
evils I have been describing; but God be thanked, this was not 
their only tendency. True, the feelings of the decent and the virtu- 
ous among mankind would be harrowed up, when they were classed 
with the vilest of their species, and told that they had been wearing 
but the mask of virtue ; that the hidden man of the heart was utterly 
polluted; that God had concluded all under sin, and that therefore, 
all are under condemnation. True, the prejudices of the Jews, with 
all their associations of patriotism and sacredness, must have been 
shocked at being told that the descendants of Abraham were no 
longer God's chosen nation, but that the Gentiles were become fel- 
low-heirs with them of the promises. True, the apostle's preaching 
was, to the Jews, a stumbling-block, and to the Greeks foolishness; 
but this was not all, or I repeat it, the apostle was guilty of the 

29* 



342 APPENDIX. 

greatest cruelty. But unto them who believe, both Jews and Greeks, 
it was the power of God, and the wisdom of God. 

In order then to show that the simple belief of the truths of the 
gospel is sufficient reason for preaching them, and preaching them, 
too, with all the unwearied diligence and fervent zeal which charac- 
terized the preaching of the apostle Paul ; and at the risk too, of all 
the losses and persecutions to which his ministry subjected him, we 
shall attempt to show, — 

I. The perfection and excellency of the New Testament dis- 
pensation. 

II. We shall also attempt to show, that the belief of the gospel is 
not only a sufficient reason for preaching it, but that it is the only 
right motive which can lead an individual to the choice of the min- 
istry as his occupation. 

The perfection and excellency of the New Testament dispensation 
may perhaps be most strikingly illustrated by contrasting it with 
less perfect discoveries. 

We remark, then, that the doctrines of natural religion, (with a 
very few exceptions,) are so very dark and confused, as scarcely to 
warrant, and by no means to encourage its promulgation as a sys- 
tem, on the part of those who embrace it. 

By the light of nature, it is true, we can clearly perceive the ex- 
istence and some of the attributes of Deity. It is not to the doctrines 
of natural religion, taken individually, but to natural theology itself 
as a system of religion, that the foregoing remark is applicable. 
Had God never revealed himself to us by his Spirit, or by his Son, 
still we might have known something of his character from the 
works which he has made. And in contrasting the declarations of 
God's word with the language of his works, we conceive that men of 
different parties have fallen into opposite extremes. The mere 
philosopher would wish to convince us that nature speaks so audibly, 
and so unequivocally of her Sovereign, as to render all supernatural 
declarations of his will unnecessary ; while, on the other hand, it 
must be confessed, that the advocates of a written testimony from 
above have sometimes, through a wish to magnify the importance 
of the communications of God's Spirit, depreciated that testimony 



DISCOURSE ON FAITH. 343 

which his works undoubtedly bear to the character of their great 
Creator. It is our wish to steer clear of these extremes ; and, in 
attempting to do so, we cannot follow a safer course than that w r hich 
the written testimony itself points out. 

" The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth 
forth his handy-work. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto 
night showeth knowledge. There is no speech nor language where 
their voice is not heard. Their line has gone out through all the 
earth, and their words to the end of the world. " The invisible 
things of our Creator, even his eternal power and Godhead, are thus 
clearly seen from the creation of the world — " being understood by 
the things that are made." 

So far the voice of nature utters a clear and decided declaration ; 
and so far, those who have listened to no higher testimony, are re- 
prehensible if they speak not what they believe, or what they would 
believe did they attend as they ought to the evidence around them. 
But when we attempt from these few isolated, though important 
truths, to form a system of religion — something that may satisfy us 
as to the relation in which we stand to the powerful Being who cre- 
ated the world, how very imperfect does all our knowledge appear 
— how unsatisfactory all our conclusions — how dark and fearful 
our prospect of futurity ! 

The ancient philosophers of Greece and Home could clearly per- 
ceive, that there was one great Author and Governor of all things — 
a Being of inconceivable glory, and of infinite power — and there- 
fore a Being widely different from those contemptible deities which 
the impure imagination of their poets had feigned, and which the 
perverted judgment of a degraded populace had accepted as the 
objects of their worship. They must thus have perceived that idola- 
try was not only a folly but a crime, and, in so far, they were guilty 
for not promulgating the truths they believed ; and, in so far, they 
are liable to that fearful curse which is denounced against those 
who " confine the truth by unrighteousness." 

But it may go far, perhaps, to palliate, though it cannot atone for 
their crime, that, when they attempted to carry out their own 
speculations, they were landed in most unsatisfactory conclusions ; 
and if they attempted to guess, when they could no longer deter- 
mine with certainty, their conjectures of futurity must have been 



344 APPENDIX. 

only those of terror and despair. Not only must they have been 
convinced from the wondrous objects around them, of the power and 
glory of God, but from the conscience within them — that monitor 
which whispers approbation to all that is good, and so loudly and 
.bitterly condemns what is evil ; they must have been impressed with 
the belief, that He, who gave them such a constitution, must him- 
self be a lover of righteousness, and a hater of iniquity. The voice 
of that monitor, however, they must have been conscious they had 
often disobeyed ; and the thought cannot fail to have struck them, 
that in so doing, they had offended Him who had placed that moni- 
tor within them. They must thus have arrived at the conclusion, 
that they had forfeited the favour of him whom his works declared 
so mighty and so glorious. If they risked the thought of another 
state of being where they should be brought into the more imme- 
diate presence of an offended God, how fearful must have been the 
prospect! If God were just, they must abide his righteous indigna- 
tion ; and if he were unjust, the prospect was not more pleasing. 
Here was a very fearful dilemma, and yet this was the legitimate 
conclusion into which their inquiries must have landed them. We 
do not say, that all, or any of the ancient philosophers arrived at 
this conclusion ; but if they did not, it was because, dreading the 
result, they shrunk from the inquiry. 

Now, with such a revelation as this, what encouragement was 
there to promulgate their opinions ? They could not come boldly 
forward with the great apostle of our faith, and say, — " We speak 
because we believe." All with themselves was darkness and doubt ; 
or if their conjectures amounted to probability, it was a probability 
of the most fearful kind ; they felt that their opinions landed them- 
selves in no satisfactory conclusions ; or if they did seem to point to 
any one conclusion more decidedly, it was one of the most appalling 
nature, — even that the whole world were exposed to the anger of a 
justly offended God. 

This view of natural religion may serve to explain to us how the 
philosophers of ancient times were so enlightened, while the multi- 
tude around them were sunk in the most degraded ignorance. They 
did not think the truths they possessed worth promulgating, far less 
worth suffering for. Socrates, that prince of heathens, dashed the 
crown of martyrdom away from him, when it had been as easy for 



DISCOURSE ON FAITH. 345 

him to have gained it as to have refused it, disclaimed the honour- 
able charge that was laid to him of despising the abominations with 
which he was surrounded, and even by his latest breath giving the 
order that the idolatry of his country should be sanctioned by his 
name. 

They like very well to start objections, or even to throw the most 
insolent aspersions on the truths of Christianity ; but when you ask 
them what they would substitute in its place, they can give no satis- 
factory answer. They are, in the true sense of the word, sceptics ; 
they have no settled opinions. Infidels they are, too, — they doubt, 
— they disbelieve. 

You see, then, that with such knowledge of God as his works can 
give, there is little encouragement to promulgate that knowledge — 
to speak, because we believe. We might more strikingly illustrate 
this, by contrasting the inactivity and easy carelessness of mere 
worshippers of nature in spreading what they profess to believe 
with the ardour and the self-denial of the apostles of our faith. 
Where, among the great and the wise, who have made reason their 
god, do we find an instance of suffering for conscience' sake ? Or, 
if a very few such examples can be adduced, — where do we find a 
single instance of martyrdom for the cause of truth ? But I am 
almost forgetting that this part of my discourse is only an illustra- 
tion ; and is merely intended, by the darkness of its representation, 
to mark with a clearer outline, and paint with stronger colouring, 
that glorious dispensation under which we live. 

But between the twilight darkness of nature, and the full blaze 
of that light which shines forth in revelation, there are many inter- 
mediate shades of brightness ; and besides that dispensation of 
mercy under which we live, there is many a supposable way in 
which a perfect Being might have treated his rebellious dependants. 
You will excuse me, if, in order to illustrate, still further, the per- 
fection and excellence of the Christian revelation, I dwell on some 
of the supposable revelations which the Deity might have made 
to us. 

I am aware, that, to some, this may seem a very circuitous method 
of treating my subject, and I may appear to be continually hover- 
ing round the point- 1 would be at, without ever actually reaching 
it. But it seems to me, that there are two methods by which a clear 



346 APPENDIX. 

conception of any object may be presented, either by directly de- 
scribing what it is, or by contrasting it with what it is not; just as 
the painter may delineate any object, either by actually colouring 
what he wishes to portray, or by encircling it with a ground of a 
colour different from its own. Unquestionably, both in the case it- 
self, and in the illustration, the former method, in most cases, is 
decidedly preferable ; but it is as unquestionable, that there are few 
instances in which the latter method is more advantageous. Such 
an instance, I conceive, is afforded by the subject which I am now 
attempting to set before you. You have all heard of the gospel 
again and again ; and with its peculiar doctrines, and the blessings 
which flow from them, you are intimately acquainted. Since you 
know, then, what the gospel is, I have hoped to throw some addi- 
tional illustration around it, by contrasting it with what it is not. 
We all know what a blessing health is, — but how much more highly 
do we prize this blessing when just recovered from some painful 
disease. To return, then, from this digression, I remark, 

The revelation of God might have been only a revelation of wrath. 

Indeed, this is the kind of revelation, that, from any previous know- 
ledge of the divine character, we should have expected. I have already 
attempted to show, that, if natural religion points to any conclusion 
this is that conclusion ; that God is just and holy, and that man by his 
sin has offended him. The word of God, we should expect, would sanc- 
tion the declarations of his works, and would clearly reveal what 
they had but faintly indicated. And, accordingly, it is so. Reve- 
lations of God's word do not give the lie to the testimony of his 
works. They speak one language, though the one utters its decla- 
rations with a voice more audible and distinct. Instead of a reflec- 
tion of God's character from his works, we have now a clear mani- 
festation of that character in his word ; but it is the same character 
which both assign to him; both declare him to be holy, just, and 
good. 

Instead of the dictates of conscience, we have now the precept, 
clear and express, written by God's own finger. And instead of the 
conclusion to which natural religion might have led us, that, since 
God is just and holy, sin must be punished, we have now the express 
declaration annexed to the law by Him who wrote it, — " The soul 
that sinneth, it shall die." 



DISCOURSE ON FAITH. 847 

Instead of the fearful conjectures of natural religion, we have now 
a still more fearful certainty, — that, since all men have manifestly 
sinned, all have to look forward to eternal condemnation. It is true, 
some have objected, that, if none can keep the law of God, it is surely 
inconsistent with his goodness to have given so strict a law. We 
might answer such objections with the apostle's argument, — " Nay, 
but who art thou, man," &c. But we need not make such an 
appeal to God's sovereignty. An imperfect law would have argued 
a lawgiver imperfectly holy. So that either holiness and goodness 
are incompatible with each other, or the strictness of the law of God 
is consistent with his goodness. 

If there was little encouragement to promulgate the doctrines of 
natural religion, still less would there be to promulgate the doctrines 
of a revelation so fearful as this. In that case there is uncertainty, or 
at best, fearful conjecture ; but then it was but conjecture, and the 
powerful influence of hope bore the minds even of those who half 
believed it, above its fears. But here there is nothing on which hope 
can lay hold. Here is no conjecture ; it is certainty, and certainty 
the most overwhelming, even " a certain fearful looking for of judg- 
ment, and fiery indignation." 

Such is the revelation we might have expected from Heaven ; and 
had God thus dealt with us according to our deserts, in all probabil- 
ity this world, as it now is, would never have existed. The very 
first breach of God's law must have immediately incurred the full 
weight of the curse ; for, it were absurd to talk of a state of trial in 
regard to those whose certain destiny was everlasting destruction* 
But supposing, for a moment, that the world did exist under such a 
dispensation, as it exists now, and rebellious man were permitted to 
live a few short years as the ungodly now do, in forgetfulness of 
God, and careless security ; the question presents itself, — Supposing 
this fearful revelation of God's wrath to be made known to some 
individuals, would it be right to promulgate the dreadful truth, — to 
speak, because we believed ? We conceive not. That there would 
be no encouragement to do so is abundantly manifest. For if it be 
no enviable duty to communicate to a criminal the sentence that 
condemns him to the suffering of temporal death, it were assuredly 



348 APPENDIX. 

a fearful task to publish the death-warrant of a world doomed to 
eternal perdition. 

But, we conceive, were this revelation known to a few, it would be 
the greatest cruelty on their part to publish it ; it would be torment- 
ing before the time. Could it indeed be hoped, that by the revela- 
tion of God's wrath against all iniquity, men would be led to see the 
evil of sin, and would be kept from sinking deeper in destruction ; 
then it might be merciful to proclaim it, inasmuch as we might 
thereby hope to alleviate the punishment which we could not pre- 
vent. But who, that knows the mind of fallen man, does not see 
that quite the reverse of this would be the case? This announce- 
ment of the Divine justice would call forth a fresh display of the 
corruption of his rebellious subjects, who would thereby plunge still 
deeper into the abyss of perdition. There are instances even now 
in the world, of some who have despaired of mercy, and none do we 
find more hardened against their God, or more proudly eminent in 
rebellion. They gather strength from despair, and they dare the 
Almighty to his face. Their language is, " Evil, be thou our good. 
Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die. — Let us enjoy while we 
may, the pleasures of this life, and then sink into endless misery." 
Rather than rouse such a spirit as this, would it not be better to let 
men slumber on in ignorance of their fate, till destruction itself 
awoke them from their slumbers? 

Under such a dispensation, it is very obvious, an office, analogous 
to the ministry, could never have existed. If these fearful truths 
were known to a single individual of our species, he must thereby 
be rendered perfectly wretched, even in this life, and would be led 
from the depravity of his nature, to curse the justice of Jehovah, 
and to sin with a high hand against his God. It is, therefore, alto- 
gether impossible to conceive that such an individual should publish 
these appalling truths from a sense of duty, or a conviction that it 
was right, whatever might be the consequences, to publish the will 
of God ; and we can see no other motive that could lead him to di- 
vulge the awful secret, but one of the most devilish malignity, — even 
a wish to steal from his fellows their envied ignorance, and make 
them as wretched as himself. Such cruelty were it, to break the 
slumbers of a malefactor, who, on the night before his execution, 
should dream of pardon, and think himself restored to his family 



DISCOURSE ON FAITH. 349 

and his friends, to tell him that his fancied happiness was all de- 
lusion, and to recall his thoughts to the fearful realities before him. 

There is an anecdote of an Indian Brahmin, which may throw 
some light upon this subject, and with which some of you may be 
acquainted. You are aware that the priests of India think it the 
greatest crime to destroy animal life, and accordingly live entirely 
on herbs. It is said that one of our countrymen, in arguing with 
one of these Brahmins, in order to convince him of the falsity of the 
doctrines he held, in regard to this matter, showed him by a micro- 
scope that the stems and leaves of the herbs on which he lived, were 
covered with hundreds of minute, yet living sentient creatures. This 
was ocular demonstration, and it could not be resisted. The 
priest had placed his hopes of happiness on his fancied innocence, 
and now that the enormity of his crimes was laid before him, his 
peace of mind was destroyed, and all his hopes of enjoyment were 
blasted. It is said, that after continuing thoughtful for a consider- 
able time, he earnestly inquired of the other on what terms he would 
part with this wonderful instrument ; and having at last with con- 
siderable difficulty, obtained possession of it, he dashed it into a 
thousand pieces. It had broken his peace of mind, he said, but 
never should it destroy the peace of another. 

This anecdote is generally adduced as affording an instance of 
bigoted attachment to former opinions, even when convinced of their 
falseness. But we view it in a very different light ; we think that 
the action displays a dignified benevolence. Had new hopes of hap- 
piness, founded on more rational principles, been substituted in the 
room of those which he now perceived to be so groundless, then it 
would have been cruelty to have allowed his countrymen to dream 
of happiness that could never be realized; but the alternative was 
not between delusive hopes and rational expectations of enjoyment, 
but between a dream of happiness and the certainty of woe. 

And just so, had the gospel never reached our earth, but only a reve- 
lation of God's perfect holiness and justice, it had been better far that 
men should be permitted, while here, to dream on of a heaven they 
were never to enter, than to tell them beforehand of the punishment 
it was impossible to escape, and thus to add to the sufferings that 
soon were to burst upon them the dire forebodings of misery, in some 
cases more dreadful even than the misery itself. 

30 



350 APPENDIX. 

But let us turn from these terrific suppositions to the glorious 
reality. It is not a message of condemnation which we are commis- 
sioned to bear to our fellow-men. The tidings that have reached us 
from on high are " glad tidings of great joy." That fearful revela- 
tion, indeed, which we have just been considering, is still true, and 
has been revealed to us from heaven, but, God be thanked, it came 
not alone ; and the dread nature of that condemnation which it re- 
veals, serves but to cast a brighter lustre around the offers of that 
mercy which promises a free pardon to all who will but accept of it. 
In all the revelations God has made to us, mercy is the prominent 
feature. Mercy even anticipates justice, and it is a striking fact that 
man was never let into the fearful condition into which his sin had 
brought him, till deliverance was promised. There was no room 
left for the workings of despair ; for the curse was not pronounced 
upon the rebellious representatives of our race till God had pledged 
his word that the seed of the woman should bruise the head of the 
adversary who had seduced her. 

This mercy has been obtained for us in a way that natural reli- 
gion could never have anticipated. There could be no hope that 
any being, however powerful, could stay the arm of offended omni- 
potence ; neither could there be any rational expectation, although 
such an expectation some have chosen to indulge, that, by a sort of 
amiable weakness, which creatures sometimes indulge, a shrinking 
from infliction of punishment which justice demands, the Deity 
should screen us from the misery we have entailed upon ourselves, 
even though his justice and his holiness should suffer by his compas- 
sion. "God is not a man, that he should lie, nor the Son of man 
that he should repent." He had declared that death was the inevi- 
table consequence of transgression ; and his mercy, far from giving 
the lie to his justice, confirms the sentence of the law: for in the 
dispensation of the new covenant, that truth has its most striking 
illustration ; that, without a due satisfaction to injured justice there 
can be no remission of sin. It is the Lawgiver, the Judge himself, 
that has offered us forgiveness. And his character, as our Saviour, 
is in perfect consistency with his character, as our righteous Judge. 

" The Lord saw that there was no man, and he wondered that 
there was no intercessor, therefore his own arm brought salvation 
unto him, and his righteousness it sustained him." God sent his Son 



DISCOURSE ON FAITH. 351 

into the world, but it was not, as well might have been expected, to 
condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved. 
Thus a free offer of pardon is made to the whole of a condemned 
world ; and had the simple truth of redemption through the sacrifice* 
of Christ to every one that believeth, been all that had been re- 
vealed, this of itself would seem enough to answer all the circum- 
stances of our lost condition. Could any one be acquainted with 
such a truth, and not speak what he believed ? Is not the simple 
belief of such a doctrine enough to account for all the trials and 
privations that have been undergone by the evangelists of our faith, 
in order to promulgate the knowledge of this treaty of reconciliation 
between a rebellious world and its offended Sovereign ? 

But though this free offer of mercy seems at first sight to be suited 
to all the circumstances of fallen man, we shall find, on further in- 
quiry, that were this single doctrine to constitute the whole of the 
dispensation of mercy, the plan would be incomplete, and the Son of 
God might have come into our world, and died for our sins, and yet 
have suffered and died in vain. 

Man, by his fall, became a sinful being, and as such, he has a 
dislike to every holy principle. We have already remarked, that a 
revelation of God's wrath against sin would tend only to harden him 
in his depravity, but it is a still more striking proof of the depth of 
human depravity, that even the offers of mercy are contemptuously 
refused. Instead of the tone of indignation in which God might 
have addressed us, he has chosen to speak in accents of mercy, say- 
ing, " Look unto me, and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth/' He 
condescends even to reason with, to warn us of our danger, and to 
entreat us with more than a father's tenderness. " Turn ye, turn 
ye, why will ye die !" 

But the terrors of God's law, and the gracious invitations of his 
mercy, and the earnestness of his warnings, and the tenderness of 
his expostulations, fall equally powerless on the ear of infatuated 
man. He will not be saved. 

You see, then, the necessity of the doctrine of divine influence, to 
render the gospel dispensation altogether complete, and suited to all 
the peculiarities of our lost estate. Without this influence, not a 
single individual would accept the proffered mercy of heaven. 

But supposing a single individual, or a few individuals, did accept 



352 APPENDIX.' 

the testimony, you can see that there would be no encouragement to 
proclaim it to others. At first, indeed, if the message were truly be- 
lieved, there would be an ardent wish to communicate to others the 
inestimable blessing, and the confident expectation that all would 
cling to the terms of mercy as soon as they were offered. But how 
soon would the zeal of the supposed evangelist be damped, to find 
that the offers of forgiveness were turned from with loathing, and 
treated with contempt. How soon would he abate his ardour, and 
exclaim, as he sat down in despair of benefitting his fellow-men, " I 
have laboured in vain ; I have spent my strength for nought and in 
vain I* 1 

To make a new application of an illustration sufficiently trite : 
Were a building in flames, and had you succeeded in making an 
easy communication between the ground, and some part of the tene- 
ment where the noise of voices indicated that there were human be- 
ings within ; you would naturally suppose that your benevolence had 
effected its purpose. You would never dream that the inmates 
would need to be persuaded to escape for their life. But did you, in 
the prosecution of your benevolent purpose, actually ascend to that 
part of the building whence the voices issued, there is nothing ab- 
surd in the supposition, that you might find the inmates to be a com- 
pany of bacchanalians, who, in the phrenzy of intoxication, were 
alike ignorant of their danger, and regardless of your entreaties. It 
is possible, that all your warnings might be answered by the infatu- 
ated laugh of intemperate mirth, or even by the insolent attack of 
some furious debauchee, and thus might you find that all your 
efforts were vain ; and even after having made all the preparations 
for their deliverance that seemed necessary, you might find your- 
self compelled to abandon them to their fate. And so it is with the 
men of this world, in regard to the everlasting destruction that is 
hanging over them. They, too, are " drunken, though it be not 
with wine ; and they stagger, though it be not with strong drink." 
" The spirit of a deep sleep has been poured out upon them, and 
their eyes have been closed." 

You perceive, then, that without the pouring out of the Spirit of 
God, in order to turn the hearts of our apostate race, all the appa- 
ratus of a Saviour's incarnation, and sufferings, and death, might 
have been spent upon our world in vain. But, God be thanked, the 



DISCOURSE ON FAITH. 353 

system of mercy is complete in all its parts, and suited in every re- 
spect to the circumstances of our case. The promise of the Spirit 
has been given, and in every individual who is turned from dark- 
ness to light, we have a standing proof that the promise is fulfilled. 

Such is the system of truth, which, as Christians, we profess to 
believe. If we do not belie our profession, we believe that every 
individual of the millions that inhabit our globe, or that have dwelt 
upon its surface ever since the beginning, has transgressed the law 
of Jehovah. We believe that by the most stupendous sacrifice, even 
the humiliation and death of one of the Persons of the Godhead, the 
punishment that is due to our deeds has been averted, and unlimited 
pardon procured for the whole human race. We believe, however, 
that in order to profit by this general deed of amnesty, which the 
Sovereign of heaven and earth has issued, there must be a distinct 
reception of the terms of forgiveness on the part of an individual 
criminal ; and, coupled with this belief, we are aware of the fact, 
that, though it is now eighteen hundred years since an express Mes- 
senger from heaven published this treaty of reconciliation in our 
world, comparatively few have welcomed the gracious message, and 
at this moment three-fourths of the population of our globe are in 
utter ignorance that such a message has ever come. 

Do we believe these things, my brethren, and shall we not speak 
what we believe ? Is there not a duty entailed upon every Christian, 
as far as it is in his power, by the belief of these great truths, to 
publish them to his fellow-men ? And is there not a woe pronounced 
against every believer, if, in as far as he has opportunity, he preach 
not the gospel? It is not necessary to the preaching of the gospel 
that we pass through a preparatory course of science and literature, 
or that we be commissioned to do so by our fellow-men. Nor is it 
necessary to the preaching of the gospel, that we ascend a pulpit, or 
be surrounded with any of the apparatus of ordinary parsonship. It 
is not necessary that our address be made to a public assembly at 
all. Nor is it even necessary, ere we open our mouth to our fellow- 
men, that we work up a laboured systematic discourse. These 
things may accompany the preaching of the gospel, but they are by 
no means its necessary accompaniments, and it is hard to say 
whether this lavish profusion of human preparation, and worldly 
pomp, has not in many instances robbed of their native dignity and 
30* 



354 APPENDIX. 

impressiveness, those sublime but simple truths which manifestly 
appear — "when unadorned, adorned the most/'' The preaching 
of the gospel, as imperative upon every Christian, needs not the aid 
of deep meditation, or of human scholarship. It consists in the sim- 
ple communication to others of the simplest truths. We may preach 
to the little family circle as we sit in the house, or even to the soli- 
tary companion as we walk by the way. The simple belief of the 
gospel is all that is necessary to give us a title, and even to lay us 
under an obligation, to preach it in the sense which I have explained. 
David believed, and therefore he spoke ! Paul believed, and there- 
fore he spoke ! and every ChristiaD, having the same spirit of faith 
which dwelt in the Psalmist and the Apostle, should be able to 
adopt their language, and say, I also believe, and therefore speak. 
And if, my brethren, the same spirit of faith is working in us, it 
has not been the choice of our profession that has laid us under an 
obligation to preach the gospel ; but the previously felt obligation 
that has led us to make choice of our profession. 

If we can conscientiously give it as the reason for our proclaiming 
the truths of Christianity, that we speak because we believe, our 
conduct will be necessarily modified by the motives that actuate us ; 
and our preaching shall be of a very different kind from that of the 
mere mercenaries of the church, or even from that of those who 
make their regular Sabbath-day exhibitions merely from a sense of 
professional duty. 

In the first place, I remark, that our motive will regulate the time 
of our preaching. 

If it be merely the wish to perform decently the duties of a min- 
ister, which is our ruling motive, then we shall, in all probability, 
be content with working up during the week, as much matter as will 
enable us to make on the Sabbath, two or three speeches, of the 
ordinary length, according as the custom of our predecessors, or the 
taste of our congregation may demand. If a parish be entrusted 
to our care, we may in all probability add to this the yearly or half- 
yearly visitation of a few of our parishioners ; and if we be set over 
a dissenting congregation, we may, perhaps, contrive, without much 
risk (if our discourses happen to please the taste of our hearers,) 
of being thought inattentive to duty, to neglect the duty of visita- 
tion altogether. 



DISCOURSE ON FAITH. 355 

But if we speak because we believe, — if it be a decided convic- 
tion of the truth and importance of the doctrines of the gospel, and 
an experimental proof of their soothing and sanctifying influence on 
our own mind, which inspires us from a principle of gratitude to our 
God, and compassion for our fellow-men, with the desire to devote 
ourselves to the service of God in the ministry of his Son ; then our 
preaching will not be a thing of set times, or formal exhibitions. 
"We shall not, indeed, despise the established order of Christian 
worship ; the principle that actuates us will lead us to become " all 
things to all men, if by any means we may save some." We shall 
thus be glad to seize those opportunities when the commandment of 
God, and the laws and customs of our country have assembled many 
together for the purposes of religion ; but our preaching will not be 
confined to the public exercises of the Sabbath, but according to the 
very solemn charge of the apostle, we shall be instant in- preaching 
the word, in season and out of season, and in imitation of his ex- 
ample we shall not only speak as we have opportunity in the public 
places consecrated to devotion, but also from house to house. And 
even the ordinary intercourse that we carry on with our fellow-men, 
our correspondence with friends at a distance, and our conversations 
with companions who are near, will alike be consecrated to those 
grand objects to which our own selves are devoted. 

But our motive will not only regulate the times of our preaching, 
it will also determine the mode of our preaching. 

If we believe that the great object for which the gospel was sent 
into our world was to effect the pardon and moral renovation of man ; 
and if we believe what the Scriptures assure us, that this is chiefly 
to be effected by faith in a few simple elementary doctrines, we shall 
dwell much upon these doctrines, and ever make them the theme of 
our discourse. 

If we are assured that he who believes in Jesus Christ shall be 
saved, we shall determine, like the early promulgators of the faith, 
to know nothing among men, but Jesus Christ, and him crucified: 
we shall not preach ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord, and our- 
selves the servants of all, for Jesus' sake. 

If, again, we believe that the same Spirit which breathed life into 
the dry bones of the prophet's vision, must still exert his vivifying 
energy, ere a single sinner can be raised from a death in trespasses 



356 APPENDIX. 

and sins, to newness of life ; and if we further believe that the Spi- 
rit is the gift of prayer, we shall be ardent in our supplications at 
the throne of grace, for the out-pouring of that mysterious influence, 
which, though itself unseen, is so visible in its effects, and without 
which the most splendid eloquence, and the most cogent reasoning 
can absolutely effect nothing. 

Finally, our motive will also, to a certain extent, determine the 
sphere of our labours. 

If we believe that there is one broad line which separates men 
into two distinct classes, — those who believe, and those who do not; 
those consequently who have obtained pardon, and those who are 
still under condemnation — we shall esteem it a matter of infinitely 
greater importance to lead an individual across that boundary, than 
to lead an individual who has already past it a few steps further on 
in his progress. The building up of believers is, no doubt, a most 
important work ; but still we cannot help thinking, that it must 
yield in importance to the work of conversion. 



H. 

ON NATURAL RELIGION. 



In the Bible we are told, that, at the final judgment, all men will 
be made the subjects of an equitable moral reckoning. But we 
know, from the history of our species, that there have been, and that 
there still are in the world, thousands who have never had access to 
that revelation from Heaven with which we have been favoured. It 
becomes then an interesting inquiry, how far the natural light of 
reason can render men the fit subjects of a moral reckoning ; and 
how, in such a condition there can be any distinction between the 
godly and the ungodly. In that record, which hath come from 
Heaven, it is said, in reference to such individuals, that " God hath 
showed unto them that which may be known of himself, because the 
invisible things of him from the creation of the world, are clearly 



ESSAY ON NATURAL RELIGION. 357 

seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal 
power and Godhead : so that they are without excuse." In other 
words, it is affirmed that those who have never had access to any 
direct communication from Heaven, are yet accountable for their 
deeds, inasmuch as the existence and the character of God may be 
gathered from the works which he has made. And it is thus that 
there may be a distinction between those who have been led by these 
dim intimations of his presence, to grope, though in the dark, after 
their Creator; and those, who, notwithstanding these intimations, 
" have said in their heart, that there is no God." When God looked 
down from heaven upon the children of men, it was to see if there 
were any that did understand, — if there were any that did seek 
after God. 

The evidence for the existence of a God is so manifest in all his 
works, that there have scarcely been found any people, however igno- 
rant and degraded, who have not recognized, in the objects that are 
around them, the traces of a designing and intelligent Creator. The 
marks of design are evident in the combinations and processes of 
inanimate nature. We can see them in the harmonious revolutions 
of those vast globes which compose the universe. We can see them 
in the varied operation of those elements which are at work upon 
the surface of our earth; in the regular succession of summer and 
winter, spring-time and harvest. We behold them in the descend- 
ing shower which refreshes the soil, and in the ascending vapour 
which feeds the mighty cisterns from whence that shower was poured. 
And still more palpably do we recognize the traces of intelligence 
in the structure and physiology of the vegetable kingdom. In those 
roots which fix the plant in the soil, and collect for it its nutritive 
juices ; in those tubes by which these juices are conveyed through 
all its various branches ; in those leaves which cover and protect 
the infant bud, and die away again when the seed is ripened ; in 
those autumnal breezes which scatter the seeds on the bosom of the 
earth, there to spring up in their turn, and to become distinct mem- 
bers of the vegetable family — in all this varied conformation of 
parts, and succession of agents, can we distinctly perceive the adap- 
tation of means to an end ; an adaptation which must have been 
the result of contemplation and design. But it is in animated na- 
ture that we have the most striking proofs of the existence of an in~ 



358 APPENDIX. 

telligent Creator. In the structure of the bodies of animals tho 
marks of design are so manifold, that the simple enumeration of 
them would far exceed our limits. In tho structure of the eye alone, 
they are sufficiently numerous for our purpose. It is arched over 
with an eye-brow to carry off from it the moistures of the head. It 
is furnished with an eye-lid, which washes and moistens it, which 
covers it in sleep, which protects it when awake, spontaneously shut- 
ting on the approach of danger. Its optical adaptations are still 
more striking. It has its levers, which shift backward and forward, 
and which, without the will, or even the knowledge of him who pos- 
sesses it, suit themselves to the distance of the object on which he 
gazes. In like manner, by the enlargement or contraction of its 
orifice, does the eye adapt itself to the degree of light that is around 
it, by a mechanism which baffles the imitation of human ingenuity, 
and even mocks the scrutiny of anatomical investigation. Nor is 
the internal physiology of animals less indicative of design than the 
external organization of their bodies. We might enumerate, as 
examples, the preparation and distribution of the various secretions, 
which either moisten the eye, or which lubricate the joints ; or 
which supply that stream of circulation whose ebbings and Sowings 
are the mystic indication of animal life ; in short, all the varied and 
multifarious processes which are going on in the laboratory that is 
within us. 

These are but a few of the indications inscribed upon the face of 
nature, which point to nature's God. And it were indeed strange 
if man, with all these evidences of design, should never think of an 
intelligent Designer. Nor has it been so. All have recognized 
these proofs of a Divinity. The most ignorant and barbarous na- 
tions on the face of the earth, have imagined for themselves (how- 
ever degrading and incongruous their imaginations may have been), 
some great and intelligent Being who made the heavens and the 
earth. It is not among the rude and ignorant sons of barbarism, 
that we are to look for those who have denied the existence of a God. 
Atheism is an unnatural crime ; and we must look for its manifesta- 
tions chiefly among those who have been bewildered by the specula- 
tions of an unnatural philosophy. 

The natural attributes of God seem to follow as corollaries to the 
demonstration of his existence. Every one must admit, that, if there 



ESSAY ON NATURAL RELIGION. 359 

be a Being who made these heavens, and this earth, and all that is 
in them, he must be a Being of infinite might. We at once conclude, 
that He who gave the sea its bounds, that it should not pass his de- 
cree, must be very powerful ; that He who counts the number of the 
stars, and guides them in their courses must be very great ; that He 
who binds them to their orbits by the simple law of gravitation, 
must be very wise. 

So far our way has been smooth and even, and the steps of the 
demonstration have been of easy ascent ; but it is when we begin to 
consider the moral attributes of Deity, that we feel our progress im- 
peded by many obstructions. It is here that we begin to perceive 
the insufficiency of the light of nature. It is when we begin to look 
around amid the works of God for the proofs of his goodness and his 
justice, that we feel ourselves bewildered and confounded. Yet 
some proofs of these there must exist independent of that revelation 
which God has made known to some of his creatures, or we cannot 
see how those who have never heard of this revelation are at all ac- 
countable for their actions. For aught that we have yet proved, He 
who formed with such exquisite skill, and such infinite power, these 
heavens and this earth, may after all care nothing for the beings he 
has made. He may sit in cold abstraction upon the throne of his 
majesty, regardless of the intelligent creatures he hath formed. He 
may have required nothing at their hand, and in consequence it may 
not be their duty to render aught to him. Or, he who reigns over 
the monarchy of the universe, may, notwithstanding his greatness, 
and his power, and his wisdom, be a demon of malignant influence ; 
and however fearful our situation under such a conjecture, it may be 
our duty to resist his every commandment. In order that all men 
may be accountable before God, even natural religipn must furnish 
some clue to the ascertaining of these uncertainties. And we con- 
ceive that it does so, though not in the way that has usually been 
represented. 

It has been usual with the expounders of natural theism to sum 
up all the misery that is to be found in the world, and having placed 
it in counterpoise with the happiness which we also find there, to pro- 
nounce the Deity benevolent or malignant as the one scale or the 
other preponderates. They have represented to us the many hours of 
health we enjoy for one hour of sickness ; and the many different 



360 APPENDIX. 

circumstances that must meet ere we can enjoy one hour of ease. 
And they have told of the happiness of the inferior animals, and 
have instanced the countless shoals of happy ephemerae which dance 
with joy in the meridian sunbeam. Now we can see that this is an, 
argument for comparative benevolence, but we cannot see it to be 
an argument for perfect goodness. It proves that our Creator is not 
a devil, but it does not prove him to be a God. It may be true that 
we enjoy hundreds of hours of health for one hour of sickness; but 
why this one hour of sickness? Our natural theist should remem- 
ber too, that health is not all that is necessary to constitute happi- 
ness. Why is it that not a day passes over our head, but brings 
with it something to mar our enjoyment, some painful affront, some 
boding fear, some disappointed hope ? And when they point to the 
happiness of the inferior creation, they would do well to remember 
the ravages of death. Do they forget, that for those numberless 
myriads of insects which sport so blithely in the noontide sun ; 
myriads as numberless have, since He made the circuit of the hea- 
vens, struggled in the throes of dissolution ? Why this mixture of 
misery with happiness, if God be altogether benevolent? 

These objections did not fail to present themselves to the minds 
of our academic theists, and accordingly they have made an attempt 
to meet them. They have feigned for themselves some delightful 
region beyond the grave, where there will be happiness without 
alloy, and where the miseries of life will be merged and forgotten 
amid the joys of a blissful eternity. We say, " have feigned for 
themselves ;" for, on coming to examine their grounds of belief in 
the existence of a future state, we find that the opinion has no 
foundation but in the assumed goodness of the Deity, the very point 
they have employed it to prove. But passing for the present this 
defect in their reasoning, we cannot see how a futurity of happiness, 
though established on the surest evidence, can at all make out their 
case. The question still recurs, Why a state of mixed enjoyment at 
all? Why a single moment of imperfect felicity under the govern- 
ment of a benevolent God? Would it be deemed a sufficient excuse 
for the cruelty of an earthly parent to his infant son, that when that 
son had grown to manhood, the father had done all in his power to 
promote his happiness ? And can it be thought a sufficient vindica- 
tion of the character of him who is called the Father of our spirits, 



ESSAY ON NATURAL RELIGION. 361 

that although he hath made us miserable upon earth, he will not 
make us miserable in heaven ? 

Notwithstanding this anomaly in the moral government of God, 
and notwithstanding the weakness of the reasoning on which the 
argument for his goodness has been founded, there is a strong intui- 
tive belief in the minds of his intelligent creatures, that God is good 
and that the Judge of all the earth will do rightly. So strong is 
this inherent faith in the divine goodness, and so abhorrent to the 
mind of man is the thought of a malignant God, that rather than 
accede to the monstrous proposition that the Divinity is wicked, men 
have chosen to struggle against the most palpable demonstrations of 
their senses, and have acceded to the equally monstrous proposition 
that there is no Divinity at all. 

Whence springs this deep-rooted and almost universal belief in 
divine benevolence and justice? We conceive it to be the result of 
that constitution of our nature by which conscience has the supre- 
macy in the kingdom that is within us. It seems a just conclusion, 
that had he been a spirit of demoniac malignity, or of aught but 
perfect righteousness, who built our frame, he never would have 
placed within us a monitor to reproach us for our vice, and to 
whisper approbation to our deeds of virtue. 

This seems the only satisfactory evidence, independent of revela- 
tion, for the moral perfections of the Deity. It does not resolve the 
anomaly of his moral government, but it may lead to the resolution 
of it. It does not satisfy, but it may stimulate to inquiry. And 
who can fix the limit which must bound the discoveries of the pious 
inquirer on this subject, who has nought but the glimmering of na- 
ture's light to guide his footsteps? Even he may come to perceive 
that there is an indissoluble union -between vice and wretchedness, 
and that the misery which exists in our world is casually connected 
with the moral evil which is also found there. 

But this same constitution of our nature, which proves the moral 
attributes of God, tells us also of our connection with him, by reveal- 
ing to us what he hath required of us. And thus it is that all men 
become, to a certain degree, acquainted with the law of God, and 
are consequently the fit subjects of a moral reckoning. It is thus 
that "the Gentiles not having the (revealed) law, are a law unto 
themselves : who show the work of the law written in their hearts, 
31 



3G2 APPENDIX. 

their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the mean 
while accusing, or excusing one another V If a man thus perceive 
the moral perfections of God, and if he compare his own doings with 
the requirements of his conscience, he must find that he has come 
short of the law of God ; and he will wistfully look for a way of 
reconciliation. 

This is the state in which natural religion leaves its votaries ; but, 
unfortunately, it is not the state in which academic theists have 
usually left their disciples. They have been desirous of solving 
those difficulties in which their science places them, and they have 
done so by making a most degrading compromise between the good- 
ness and the justice of the Deity, by representing God to be such a 
one as ourselves. 

There are two grand desiderata in which natural religion lands its 
disciples. The one is to effect a reconciliation between the benevo- 
lence of the Deity, and the misery that exists among his creatures. 
The other is to effect a reconciliation between the mercy and the 
justice of God, in the pardon of those who have transgressed his 
law. The solution of these two desiderata, constitutes the grand 
design of that revelation which God hath given us. And it is thus 
that the humble disciple of natural religion is in the best state of 
preparation for the faith of the gospel. He is there told, that the 
misery which exists in our world, is the fruit of moral evil: that 
" by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin ; and so 
death hath passed upon all men, for that all have sinned." There, 
too, he is told of a Mediator, who hath suffered in the room of the 
guilty, and he can thus perceive how God is just, yet not at the ex- 
pense of his goodness; merciful, yet not by a- degrading compromise 
of his justice. 

This revelation has made manifest all that relates to ourselves, 
but it has not made manifest all that relates to God. With regard 
to the second desideratum, (the way of our acceptance with God), 
it is clear and perspicuous: but with regard to the first, (the recon- 
ciliation between the divine goodness and the misery of his crea- 
tures), it has thrown a light across the darkness, but it has not per- 
fectly illumined it. It has shifted the difficulty, but it has not en- 
tirely removed it. It tells us that misery is the result of moral evil; 
but with regard to the origin of evil, it is altogether silent. It an- 



ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 363 

swers the objection, " Why does he yet find fault, for who hath re- 
sisted his will V by reminding us of our ignorance, and our weak- 
ness ; " Nay, but, man, who art thou that repliest against God V 
The Bible was not intended to present us with a full development 
of the divine character ; but only to make known to us so much cf 
that character as affects our own acceptance with the Deity. It was 
not meant to be a sun from whence might emanate a full illumina- 
tion to reveal every object around us, but it was given us as a lamp to 
guide our own footsteps through the darkness of nature. The Day 
Star, it is true, hath arisen upon us, and " our path is as the shin- 
ing light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day ;" but 
the day itself hath not yet dawned. Here we see as through a glass, 
darkly, and know but in part : but we look forward to a period of 
clearer revelation, when there shall beam forth upon us a brighter 
display of the Divine attributes in all their harmony. And then 
6hall we see " face to face, and know even as we are known." 

I shall be excused from giving my opinion of this production, 
when I quote the following sentence annexed to it, in the hand- 
writing of Dr. Chalmers : — "An Essay of surpassing worth, as 
have been all the other compositions of its author in the Moral 
Philosophy Class." 



I. 

PRIZE ESSAY ON THE MUTUAL INFLUENCES ANB AFFINITIES, 
WHICH. OBTAIN BETWEEN THE MORAL AND THE ECONOMIC 
CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 

With those who wish to prove from natural religion, the existence 
of a state of retribution, beyond the grave, the unequal distribution 
of rewards and punishments in the present life, has always been a 
favourite argument. Such individuals have usually placed before 
us, in strongest colouring, that success which sometimes crowns the 



364 APPENDIX. 

fraudulent schemes of the vicious ; which they have rendered doubly 
impressive, by contrasting it with those unforeseen calamities, which 
so often, in this world of uncertainty, crush the most strenuous exer- 
tions of aspiring virtue. In order to reconcile this seeming injus- 
tice with the assumed goodness of the Deity, they argue that there 
must be some future state of existence, where a recompense shall be 
rendered to the virtuous for all his sufferings on earth ; and where 
that vengeance, which has been long delayed, shall at last overtake, 
and utterly overwhelm the vicious. 

Now, though we perfectly agree with those who thus reason, and 
think that their conclusions are most legitimately deducible from 
the premises, yet we cannot help the conviction that they have 
somewhat overstrained their argument, and that in their zeal to 
prove that the present life is but a state of probation, they have 
sometimes represented the moral government of God in our world, 
as more deranged, and further from equity than actually is the case. 
Notwithstanding all that has been advanced to the contrary, we 
think we are entitled, from the strongest historical evidence, to be- 
lieve that the proverb, though not universally, yet very generally, 
holds true, even when we confine our regards to man's present exist- 
ence, that virtue is her own reward, and that vice involves its own 
punishment; or, in other words, that there is a very intimate con- 
nection between a man's moral character, and his economic circum- 
stances. Idleness and vice are, with few exceptions, the harbingers 
of disease and misery, while sobriety and industry seldom fail to 
procure for their possessor, respectability and comfort. So that we 
shall in general find, that if a virtuous man come to ruin, it is not 
because of, but in spite of his virtue ; and that on the other hand, if 
a vicious man prosper, it is not because of, but in spite of his im- 
morality. And these remarks are not only consonant to experience 
and sound philosophy, but they also receive additional confirmation 
from the announcements of revelation, which ever describes moral 
evil as the sole cause of all the misery that is to be found in our 
world ; and which holds out to him who is obedient to its precepts, 
the promise of the life which now is, as well as of that life which is 
to come. 

But if these remarks hold, generally, with regard to individuals, 
they are still more universally true when applied to nations. An 



ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 365 

individual may get rich by fraud and injustice ; but we know of no 
vice that can aggrandize a nation. Some unforeseen calamity, on 
the other hand, may overwhelm the most virtuous individual ; but 
we know not of any obstacle which can impede the rising greatness 
of a country, whose inhabitants are sober and industrious, and 
which is governed with justice and liberality. So that we may 
safely aver, if not of individuals, at least of communities, that there 
is a very close and intimate connection between their moral, and 
their economic condition. 

To point out a few of the mutual influences and affinities which 
obtain between the moral and the economic condition of mankind, 
will, therefore, be the object of the following observations. And 
we shall consider the subject; First, As it may be illustrated in 
savage life, and in the subsequent progress of a community from 
barbarism to refinement. And, secondly, In its relation to civilized 
society. 

The most degraded condition in which we can suppose human 
beings to be placed, and that in which man most nearly resembles 
the animals of the inferior creation, is that condition in which there 
is no mental culture, no moral instruction whatever. As this is the 
lowest condition in which a community can be placed in point of 
morals, so is it the lowest in point of economic comfort. The untu- 
tored savage comes into the world, and feels himself actuated by 
certain appetites and passions, which, as he has never been taught 
to res-train, he makes it his sole employment to gratify. His present 
wants occupy so much of his attention, that he seldom thinks of 
making provision for those that are future. His subsistence, there- 
fore, consists entirely in the spontaneous productions of the earth 
and the sea ; in the animals which he can succeed in capturing, and 
in the scanty fruits which the soil may produce without the labour 
of human hands. The latter are so insignificant that they can 
scarcely be taken into account ; and accordingly, we find, that fishing, 
and tfie chase, constitute, in general, the sole employments of nations 
sunk in this lowest state of barbarism. 

Nothing can be more uncertain, however, than the returns which 
such occupations yield ; and the savage has too little foresight to 
make the success of one expedition compensate for the failure of an- 
other. If he catch a deer, he does not think of laying up part of it 

31* 



366 APPENDIX. 

against the emergencies of future bad fortune, but prooeeds forth- 
with to gratify the voracious appetite of himself and his family, 
which has in all likelihood, been whetted by long fasting, or by a 
long succession of scanty meals. After he has thus profusely wasted 
his whole stock of provisions, he must again fast, perhaps for days, 
or support existence by means of the few miserable berries which 
the woods can afford him, till another deer falls in his way, when 
the same scene of gluttony takes place, and the same course of 
misery follows. If another has been more successful than himself, 
his sense of justice is by far too weak to deter him from satisfying 
the cravings of a famished appetite at whatever expense. He will 
not hesitate to fight with his enemy for the sake of the animals he 
may have caught, or even, in some instances, to murder him for the 
sake of the horrid repast which his flesh may furnish. A want of 
the necessaries of life is said to be the cause of those Woody conten- 
tions which are ever bursting forth among savage tribes. And the 
cruel and merciless nature of that warfare may be imagined, where 
the contest is not, as among civilized nations, for some imaginary 
honour, or for some disputable territory ; but, where the prize of 
victory consists in the flesh of the vanquished. It is only necessary 
to take into account the element of population, in order to complete 
this revolting picture of human wretchedness. If the savage has 
not foresight enough to provide for his own wants, it is not likely 
that he will be more careful to provide for the wants of his family. 
In such a state of society there can be no moral restraint to keep the 
population within the bounds of an uncertain and scanty subsist- 
ence : these bounds, however, it cannot exceed, and we may look for 
the positive checks which restrain it, in those extirpating wars to 
which we have already alluded, as well as in the licentious and im- 
pure habits of savages, and in those famines and pestilential dis- 
eases which are occasioned by their wretched mode of life. 

In this state of things we may suppose that some savage, who had 
often experienced the miseries of extreme want, bethinks himself 
of laying up part of the provisions which he has caught to-day, to 
insure against the uncertainty of to-morrow's expedition. We may 
suppose that he feels the benefit of this new arrangement, and that, 
in consequence, he continues it. There may thus originate in the 
mind of the savage, a sense of property. Savage, though he be, he 



ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 367 

is yet man ; and on man, even in this most degraded of all condi- 
tions, may that rule of universal application have some influence, 
"As ye would that others should do unto you, do ye even so to 
them." From a feeling of attachment to his own property, and a 
wish to defend it from the attacks of his neighbour, may he learn to 
have respect for the property of others ; and thus, from a sense of 
property, may there emerge a sense of justice. 

This, however, is an important step in the progress of morality; 
and we shall find that it is immediately followed by a step as im- 
portant in the march of economic improvement. 

An example has been shown of the good effects of foresight, and 
property is now in some degree regarded ; it therefore becomes a 
general custom among the savages to hoard up the overplus of a 
successful hunting or fishing expedition, in order to insure against 
future emergencies. By and by they perceive, that, if they can but 
keep the cattle which they take, alive, they thus acquire a kind of 
property, which not only furnishes a safeguard against future want, 
but which has also this peculiar advantage, that it is continually in- 
creasing. In a little time they find that this live stock, which is 
kept at home, multiplies so rapidly, as not only to enable them to 
bear out against the failure of a single expedition in fishing or the 
chase, but to render them independent of fishing and the chase alto- 
gether. Though they can now live without engaging in the toils of 
their old occupations, and are no longer obliged to roam through the 
woods in search of subsistence, yet they are by no means idle; their 
increasing flocks and herds demand every day more and more of 
their attention. Instead of hunters and fishers, they now become 
shepherds ; and, to a state of most degraded barbarism, there now 
succeeds the pastoral condition, greatly more improved indeed than 
the former, yet still very far removed from a state of perfect civili- 
zation. 

The pastoral condition is one that has been a favourite theme with 
the poets of every age and nation ; and in their writings it has been 
pictured forth as a state of purest simplicity and most perfect inno- 
cence. Green fields, and flowing streams, and cattle browsing upon 
their banks, furnish indeed very beautiful imagery for poetry, and 
naturally lead us to imagine how simple, and how innocent their 
manners must be, who are conversant with objects so pure and so 



368 APPENDIX. 

peaceful. But there is a fearful contrast between the face of exter- 
nal nature, and the heart of man. The curse that was pronounced 
upon the ground, hath still left many a lovely trace of Eden behind 
it ; but that withering blight which hath gone forth over the face of 
our moral scenery, hath left scarce a vestige in our world, of prim- 
aeval sanctity and justice. 

Notwithstanding all that has been said or sung about the happi- 
ness, and the innocence of the pastoral state, it seems to stand in 
the scale of morality and civilization just where we have placed it, 
at a very small distance from the grossest barbarism. 

When once a number of savages have turned from the ruder occu- 
pations of fishing and the chase, to the tending of cattle, they find 
that the fodder of the place where they dwell is soon consumed. 
They are thus obliged to proceed in search of new pasture ground, 
which again is soon exhausted and left in its turn. In this wander- 
ing condition they find it necessary to form little bands or tribes, 
both for the purpose of self-defence, and also to enable them to ex- 
tirpate or expel from their territories, the inhabitants of such dis- 
tricts, as may seem most fit to be converted into pasture ground for 
their cattle. The morality of these pastoral tribes seems much akin 
to that which is generally to be met with in a band of highwaymen, 
who must necessarily keep up some semblance of justice among 
themselves, but whose business it is to plunder everybody that does 
not belong to their gang. This character but ill accords with that 
which is assigned to them in the high-wrought descriptions of pas- 
toral poetry ; but unfortunately it is their real one. Mr. Malthus, 
in his work on population, describes the Scythian shepherds, as ac- 
tuated by a most savage and destructive spirit; and as an exempli- 
fication of this, he tells us that "when the Moguls had subdued the 
northern provinces of China, it was proposed, in calm and deliberate 
council, to exterminate all the inhabitants of that populous country, 
that the vacant land might be converted to the pasture of cattle." 

The economic state of pastoral nations, seems quite, as miserable 
as their moral condition. There is still but little of prudential re- 
straint to confine the population within the limits of subsistence ; 
and still the checks, as in the case of utter barbarism, are vice, and 
famine, and pestilence, and war. 

It is long before, by that gradual process of improvement which 



ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 369 

is going; on in every society, the morals of such a people are so far 
improved, as to give security sufficient for carrying on the operations 
of agriculture : and it is still longer, perhaps, before by their estab- 
lishment prejudices are so far removed, as to induce them to change 
the employment of the shepherd for that of the husbandman. But 
■when once this period arrives, improvement advances apace. The 
land begins to yield a rent to the landlord. The principle of the 
division of labour begins to operate. New inventions are conse- 
quently made, and the productive powers of labour are almost infi- 
nitely increased. A knowledge of science and the arts is dissemi- 
nated, and then follow in their train all the blessings of civilization 
and refinement. 

This process, tardy as it is, seems to be the natural one, by which 
a society advances from a state of barbarism to a civilized condition, 
and through the whole of it may we behold how the moral and the 
economic blend together, and mutually influence and affect each 
other. And it is a fact, not the least deserving of our notice, in this 
beautiful process, that though the moral and the economic are mutu- 
ally subservient the one to the other, yet it is the moral, generally 
speaking, which takes the lead. Where, by the gradual progress of 
improvement, a change is effected in the moral condition of a com- 
munity, it is instantaneously followed up by a corresponding change 
in its economic condition. And not one step can be taken in the 
path of economic improvement, till the way has first been prepared 
by the advancement of a purer morality. This fact, we apprehend, 
if properly appreciated, would lead to the solution of a problem in 
economic science, which has long engaged the attention of every 
genuine philanthropist. It is a melancholy fact, that a very large 
portion of the human family are still sunk in the depths of utter 
barbarism, or but a few steps removed from it: and the problem is, 
— to civilize them. We are aware that nature herself would ac- 
complish the task in the lapse of ages, but the question is, cannot 
•we hasten her operations ? It is extremely natural to suppose, and, 
accordingly, it has been the opinion of most of the philosophers of 
our day, that the way to solve this important problem, is to begin 
directly by teaching the barbarians the arts of civilized life. If, 
however, there be any truth in our remark, that the moral precedes 
and paves the way for the economic in the natural progress of so- 



370 APPENDIX. 

ciety, there is a very strong presumption that we must observe the 
same order, when it is our wish to hasten this natural progress. 
And if this be the case, we should be prepared to expect, that the 
plan we have mentioned, however well it promised as a theory, 
would prove unsuccessful when brought to the test of actual experi- 
ment. And it has accordingly proved so. A class of men, who 
have ever stood among the foremost in the enterprises of philan- 
thropy, have made an attempt, upon this plan, to civilize the Indian 
tribes of North America: but so far as we have heard, their efforts 
have proved unsuccessful. Nor need we wonder that such has been 
the result of their operations. However zealous they may have been 
in their endeavours, they have been working at the wrong end of 
the lever. The way one would think, were, first, to elevate the 
moral feeling of the barbarian ; and then, having thus paved the 
way for economic improvement, to superinduce those instructions 
which might hasten the progress of civilization and refinement. On 
this plan, too, the experiment has been tried, not in one country, or 
among savages of one disposition ; but the arena of its operations 
has been chosen from every latitude in either hemisphere of our 
globe, — from the frozen regions, encircled by the Northern Sea, to 
the distant islands of the Southern Ocean : and wherever the experi- 
ment has been fairly tried, it has been universally attended by a 
greater or less degree of success. And yet, strange as it may seem, 
the originators of this plan have been laughed at as enthusiasts ; and 
they who have devoted their lives to carry it into execution, and who 
have told of its success, have been reviled as hypocrites and liars. 
And that, not because the plan has failed in its operations, or be- 
cause there has not been sufficient evidence of its success, but 
because of the seeming insignificancy of the means by which this 
mighty work is achieving. It is because they are not the philoso- 
phers of this world who are its executors, but those whom the phi- 
losophers of this world too often despise. It is because they are not 
the manuals of philosophy which have guided its operations, but 
that book which philosophers have too frequently rejected. 

But we shall be very much deceived, if we imagine that all that 
can be done for a country, is to civilize it ; and that, after this has 
been effected, the comforts of this life are secured to every individual 
within its borders. Such, indeed, is the vast increase in the produc- 



ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 371 

tive powers of labour, that the very lowest member of a civilized 
community, has a greater command over the comforts of life, than 
the prince of any savage nation. But even in a civilized community 
do we find much of economic wretchedness. After we have suc- 
ceeded in solving the problem, " to civilize a society," there still re- 
mains to be solved another economic problem of the last importance ; 
and one which has long occupied the attention of philanthropists, 
both in our own and other civilized nations. It is to elevate the 
condition of the poor. 

In the attempts which have been made, in our own country, to 
solve this problem, and in what we consider the only effective method 
of accomplishing this task, do we think that we have several beauti- 
ful illustrations of the way in which the moral and the economic 
mutually influence and affect each other; and to this subject, there- 
fore, we propose chiefly to direct our attention in the remainder of 
this essay. 

After the division of labour has allotted to each individual his 
peculiar employment, and stock has been accumulated, and land 
appropriated, the inhabitants of every society are divided into three 
grand classes. 

The first consists of those, who, by the labour of their hands, work 
up commodities both for their own consumption, and that of the 
other classes, and are thus the originators of the whole wealth of the 
society. The second class consists of those, who, in virtue of a capi- 
tal, which either they or their progenitors have accumulated, are 
enabled to furnish the labouring class with the implements of their 
industry, and to support them till the produce of their labour finds a 
market: and who, in return for these important services, lay claim 
to a part of the produce of their labour. The third class consists of 
those who, in virtue of a possessory right, lay claim to the earth, 
that great implement of industry, and who derive a revenue by lend- 
ing out this implement to the other classes. 

On taking an abstract view of these three classes, we should least 
of all expect, that that class should be the poorest which furnishes 
the wealth of the whole society. Experience, however, teaches us 
that that class of the community who do most, are the worst re- 
warded ; while they who do little, are in comfortable circumstances ; 
and they who do least, are overflowing in wealth. 



372 APPENDIX. 

It has, accordingly, been almost universally the custom to de- 
claim against landlords and capitalists, as if they were the authors 
of all the misery which exists among the working classes: as if it 
were their avarice and their injustice which had wrested from the 
most useful class of the community, that wealth which their own 
hands so laboriously had earned. But it is not the landlords 
who are the authors of this misery ; it is not the capitalists who 
are the authors of it: in very deed, it is the labourers themselves 
who are the authors of it. Were but their manners virtuous, and 
their habits prudential, they might bid proud defiance to their 
haughty superiors, and might refuse to treat with them but on hon- 
ourable terms. They, and not their employers, are the arbitrators 
of their wages. But it is the vices to which they are wedded, 
which, like the false mistress of Samson, have betrayed to their ene- 
mies the secret of their strength : it is their own improvident 
habits which have brought them down from that lofty vantage- 
ground which else they might occupy, and have placed them at the 
mercy of their employers : it is their own over-grown numbers 
which have reduced them to the point of starvation, and have thus 
compelled them, like the inhabitants of a blockaded city, who aro 
hard pressed by the horrors of a famine, to submit to any terms, 
however humiliating, which their masters may be pleased to hold 
out. 

This miserable condition of the working class, when contrasted 
■with the ease and affluence of the other two, may not appear so 
anomalous, if we but consider the matter a little more attentively. 
There are comparatively few who are born heirs to fortunes or landed 
property, and still fewer who acquire either, by dint of their own 
exertions ; but, on the other hand, many who lose both by careless- 
ness or extravagance. The working class is thus, not only naturally 
by far the most numerous, but is continually exposed to the over- 
flowings of the other two. It requires an effort to resist the force 
of the current, which carries downward, and the most strenuous 
exertions seldom prove successful in the attempt to move upward 
against it. The demand for labour, however, is necessarily limited ; 
and it is the eager competition which takes place among labourers, 
for subsistence, which is the cause of the miserable condition of the 
working classes. 



ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 373 

This misery has attracted the notice of our legislators, and an 
attempt has been made, on their part, to relieve it. But in this at- 
tempt they have committed the same error as those philanthropists 
whom we formerly mentioned as having made an unsuccessful effort 
towards the civilization of the North American Indians. They have 
wrought at the wrong end of the lever. They have not adverted to 
the fact, that it is moral derangement which is the cause of economic 
misery ; and that, therefore, in every improvement, the moral must 
take the precedency of the economic. Their experiment, accordingly, 
has hitherto not only failed, but has tended to aggravate the evil 
which it was meant to cure. 

The greatest expedient by which it has been attempted to relieve 
the misery of the working classes, is that system of legalized charity, 
which is enforced, by what are usually called, the poor laws of Eng- 
land. We give credit to the benevolent feeling which prompted the 
enactment of those laws. It was a zeal in the cause of philanthropy 
which dictated the measure ; but, unfortunately, it was a zeal not 
according to knowledge. Our legislators seem, in this instance, 
to have acted like that physician, who should administer water to 
allay the thirst of a patient in a dropsy, and thereby increase the 
virulence of the disease, for the sake of giving the sufferer a few 
moments of temporary relief. When the Parliament of England 
framed the system of English pauperism, they were guilty of two 
inadvertencies. In the first place, they did not advert to the nature 
of the evil which it was their object to cure ; for, had they but dis- 
covered its cause, they would at once have perceived that it was 
their business to set to work in a very different way ; to remove, if 
possible, the cause of the evil, with the full assurance that the re- 
moval of the evil itself would be the necessary consequence ; and 
aware, that while the cause of the evil continued in full operation, 
all their attempts to remove the evil itself would prove utterly vain. 
In the second place, they forgot that that same compassion which 
dictated their well-meant exertions, was not confined to them alone, 
but glowed as fervently in every English bosom. The first of these 
things our legislators did not perceive, or they would have conducted 
the business in a very different manner. The second, they did not 
advert to, or they would never have proceeded a single step in the 
business at all. 

32 



374 APPENDIX. 

The present system of English pauperism has been productive of 
two very great evils, arising from these two inadvertencies of its 
originators. In the first place, it has prevented the operation of 
those effectual remedies which nature has provided for the relief of 
existing misery. And in the second place, it has contributed very 
much to add to the numbers of the wretched. 

The first and greatest of those remedies which nature has provided 
for the relief of existing misery, is the relative affections. The filial 
and parental affections are perhaps the strongest and most universal 
instinct we know of. They have been implanted in us by a wise 
Creator, for the most important ends, and were we altogether de- 
prived of them, society could not exist. They are not confined to 
man alone, but are shared with him by all the tribes of animated 
nature ; so that, to deprive him of these affections were to sink him 
below the level of the inferior creation. Yet this, to a certain ex- 
tent at least, is the effect of English pauperism. It is the helpless- 
ness of tender infancy and childhood, and of decrepit old age, which 
calls into action, with all their vigour, the family affections. The 
poor laws, however, have provided both for the helplessness of youth, 
and the infirmity of age, and have thus contributed to burst asunder 
the strongest and tenderest ties of our nature. Nor is this an asser- 
tion that is unsupported by facts. There are instances in which a 
parent has actually disclaimed his own children, and has told the 
overseer of the parish that it is none of his business to provide for 
them ; that the parish must find work for them, or support them, if 
it cannot. 

If the poor laws have extinguished those natural affections which 
subsist between members of the same family, we cannot expect that 
they have left uninjured those mutual sympathies which reciprocate 
between the inhabitants of the same neighbourhood ; far less those 
more distant expressions of kindness which descend upon the 
wretched from the coffers of the rich. 

But were this all the mischief the poor laws had done, there might 
still be found some to advocate the cause of pauperism. It might be 
argued for this system of legalized charity, that if it has destroyed 
the natural remedies for existing misery, it has substituted in their 
place an artificial remedy, equally effective ; that a provision for the 
distressed is still as sure as before, though it flows through a differ- 
ent channel. 



ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 375 

It were but a silly excuse for complicating a clock or a watch with 
a great deal of intricate mechanism, that the additional work had 
the wonderful property of rectifying those defects of which itself was 
the cause, and that the instrument answered its end every whit as 
well as it did before. But even such a defence, weak as it is, cannot 
"be advanced for English pauperism. 

The evils which we have mentioned, are, after all, but the least 
which pauperism has effected. Not only has it prevented the opera- 
tion of those remedies which nature has provided for existing misery, 
but it has actually increased this misery. Its regulations, by insur- 
ing against the wretchedness which they generally occasion, have 
thrown down those barriers which naturally restrain from vice and 
imprudence. Imprudence qualifies an individual for receiving parish 
support; and vice, at least, does not disqualify us. For the first of 
these positions there is sufficient evidence in the fact, that single 
persons, when the overseer has refused to enrol them on the list of 
paupers, have flatly told him, that if he do not give them the usual 
parish allowance, they will go away and marry, and thus compel the 
parish to support, not only themselves, but also their families. Of 
the latter position, that vice is no disqualification, we have a most 
palpable illustration, in the case of an individual, who on the over- 
seers refusing to give him any support at all, on the ground of his 
possessing some property of his own, most impudently threatened to 
go to the next ale-house, and there spend his all in dissipation, in 
order that he might more effectually burden the parish by compel- 
ling it to give him a full allowance. 

But the greatest mischief of all, perhaps, of which pauperism has 
been the cause, is, that it not only adds to the numbers of the miser- 
able, by destroying the prudential habits of a great part of the com- 
munity, but that it deteriorates the economic condition even of those 
whose confirmed habits of sobriety and industry have withstood its 
baneful influence. The composition of wages with parish allowance, 
is perhaps the most mischievous part of all this mischievous system. 
If our legislators did mean to give the poor a title to legal support, 
it were better far, that in every instance, they had made the parish 
allowance sufficient to maintain the pauper entirely, and that they 
had never had recourse to the ruinous experiment of compounding 
this allowance with the ordinary reward of labour. 



376 APPENDIX. 

In this case all the evils we have already mentioned, would no 
doubt have followed, but there is one very great evil, which would 
have been in a great measure prevented, the reduction of the wages 
of the independent part of the working classes. 

In the present state of things, let a man be ever so industrious, 
and ever so sober, and ever so prudent, it is absolutely impossible 
for him to better his condition, so long as pauperism sends forth her 
myriads of labourers to compete with him at any price, however low, 
which the employer may choose to offer. It is true, that the work- 
ing classes have the power of regulating their own wages ; but it 
is not one individual, or a number of individuals, who can effect 
this. It requires a combination of, at least, a very considerable por- 
tion of the labouring community ; and to this most desirable of all 
ends, pauperism presents a most insuperable obstacle. 

But we have, perhaps, entered too much into detail, in enumerat- 
ing the evils of a system, with regard to whose mischievous tendency, 
every body seems now to be perfectly agreed. It requires not now 
a well argued representation, to convince people of the evils of pau- 
perism. It has long been felt, experimentally, to be the scourge of 
our nation. The question is not now, — Should the poor laws be 
abolished ? but, — Can they be abolished with safety ? And, if so, 
How is this most desirable end to be accomplished ? It must be 
palpable to every one, that the poor laws of England are now so 
enwoven into the very constitution of society, and so amalgamated 
with the manners of a very considerable portion of the people, that 
a sudden repeal of them would be an experiment attended with the 
most dangerous consequences. There is every reason to fear, that 
were the Parliament of Great Britain, by a single act of their au- 
thority, at once to disinherit every pauper of his wonted allowance, 
the result might be nothing less than a rebellion ; and that the pre- 
cipitancy of such a measure could scarce fail to land us in all the 
horrors of internal commotion. In attempting the cure of a disease 
so virulent, and which has its seat so deep in the constitution of the 
society, the greatest care must be taken, lest, in the attempt to ex- 
tract the part that is diseased, we pierce the very vitals, or let flow 
the life-blood of the body politic. If pauperism is ever to be abol- 
ished, it must be by a gradual process. The abolition of the poor 
laws must be the work, not of a day, but of months and of years. 



ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 377 

It must, in fact, be a work of prevention, rather than of cure. It 
were cruelty, — it were madness, to snatch their wretched pittance 
from the present dependants on the vestry. The present race of 
paupers must be permitted to die away, in the quiet possession of 
their rights : and it must be made the main concern, not to cure the 
evil which exists, but to prevent the evil which threatens. 

The whole system of pauperism may, we think, be illustrated by 
the case of a machine, which has gone into disorder, and whose 
errors are attempted to be rectified by one who is unacquainted with 
its internal mechanism. We shall suppose that the machine is a 
watch, and that, from some cause or other, it does not keep time. 
The most palpable method of rectifying this error, which would 
occur to one that was ignorant of its cause, would be, to move back- 
ward or forward, as the case might require, the hands on the dial- 
plate. But it would soon be evident, that this was but a temporary 
remedy, and that the index of the watch, in a short time deviated 
as far as ever from pointing out the real hour. Temporary, how- 
ever, and withal troublesome as this remedy undoubtedly would be, 
it might come, by frequent repetition, to have at least the semblance 
of efficiency. And yet might it happen, that this continued appli- 
cation of external force to the hands of the dial-plate, was, all the 
time, doing violence to the internal mechanism of the watch ; and 
thus, instead of diminishing, was continually increasing the real 
cause of the evil. Let us now suppose, that the watch is put into 
the hands of one who is intimately acquainted with the construction 
and arrangement of all its parts ; and let us try to perceive, wherein 
the method which he takes to rectify its movements, differs from 
that which the first individual pursued. The existing error, he will 
treat just as it had been treated before: he will apply an external 
force to the hands of the watch. But he will not be satisfied with 
this. He will search amid the intricacies of the internal mechan- 
ism, for that which has been the cause of the error ; and it may be 
by a slight touch of the regulator, he will effectually prevent the 
recurrence of the error in time to come. 

Now it has thus happened with the vast engine of the commu- 
nity : its mechanism has been deranged, — and without searching 
for the cause of this derangement, it has been attempted to rectify 
it by the application of an extraneous remedy. This remedy was 
32* 



378 APPENDIX. 

found to effect only a temporary cure, and accordingly it was fre- 
quently repeated. It is now found, however, that this continuous 
application of external force, has tended to derange more and more 
the internal mechanism of this mighty engine. So fearfully has the 
evil increased, that every one now perceives that some new method 
must be adopted. But there is a dread, lest, if we all at once give 
up this external rectification, which confessedly, however, is every 
day augmenting the cause of the evil, this mighty machine may go 
into utter disarrangement. There is then a dilemma, and either 
alternative seems attended with the most dangerous results. The 
only way, which seems at once safe and effectual, is to proceed, as in 
the case of our illustration ; to treat the existing evil as it has been 
treated all along, but to prevent the future evil, by an alteration in 
the inner mechanism of the machine. And it is interesting to ob- 
serve, that the analogy holds still further. As in the case of the 
watch, a very slight alteration of the regulator may be sufficient to 
counteract a very great deviation from the truth in the hands of the 
dial-plate ; so, in the case of a community, the cause of the econo- 
mic misery which exists among the working classes, is, after all, but 
slight, and consequently can be easily removed. 

From these observations, it appears, that there are two grand 
points which must be kept in view, in any attempt to abolish the 
system of English pauperism. First, that the abolition of the sys- 
tem should be so complete, that no future amendment might be re- 
quired ; and yet, that in the second place, it should be so gradual as 
to cause no sudden disrupture. We may just briefly remark, with- 
out entering into details, that both these points may be attained by 
a mode of policy similar to that which has been employed with re- 
gard to the enclosure of English commons. It is interesting to ob- 
serve, how, on the abolition of pauperism, the relief which nature 
has provided for misery, begins again to operate ; and those numer- 
ous fountains of benevolence, which had been frozen up, under its 
cold and cheerless influence, again begin to flow. And still more 
interesting is it to observe, how soon our population will shake off 
that lethargic indifference about the future, which the provisions of 
legalized charity so long have fostered ; and, how soon prudential 
restraint will again reduce the numbers of a community, whose over- 
grown size has been the great cause of their misery. 



ESSAY ON THE CONDITION OF SOCIETY. 379 

But we are not so sanguine in our expectations, as to suppose that 
tbe abolition of pauperism would procure for the working classes, 
all the ease, and all the comfort, we could desire to see them pos- 
sessed of. We assuredly do suppose, however, that by its abolition, 
a mighty obstacle would be removed which at present destroys the 
effectiveness of those means which are employing to accomplish this 
most desirable end. It is well, perhaps, that the evils of pauperism 
are continually increasing ; for this is a circumstance which ensures 
it speedy abolition. The system cannot work much longer. Things 
must soon come to a crisis. And what our legislators are now un- 
willing to do, at the instigation of reason, they will soon be com- 
pelled to perform by the power of an irresistible necessity. 

Besides the system of pauperism, there are yet two other ob- 
stacles which have hitherto stood in the way of those philanthropic 
exertions which are now making in every quarter, for elevating the 
condition of the working classes. The first is, the law against com- 
binations of workmen, for the purpose of raising their wages. The 
second is, the want of a small capital among the operatives, to en- 
able them to stand out. till their masters may accede to their terms. 
Happily the first of these obstacles is now removed ; and an attempt 
has been made to remove the second, which bids fair to prove suc- 
cessful. For the repeal of the combination laws, the labouring 
classes are indebted to the enlightened policy of the present age, 
which has at length taught our legislators, the absurdity of com- 
pelling an individual, in a country which boasts of its liberties, to 
sell his labour at a price which can barely supply him with the ne- 
cessaries of life, and all for the purpose of keeping up the wealth 
and the dignity of his more affluent fellow-countrymen. For an 
attempt to remove the second obstacle to which we have alluded, our 
operatives are indebted to a zealous and philanthropic minister of 
the Church of Scotland. 

This gentleman has succeeded in establishing, in his own parish, 
and in several other parts of the country, those admirable institu- 
tions, which are now beginning to be generally known, by the name 
of Saving Banks ; institutions where the humble shilling of the la- 
bourer is received, with as much thankfulness, and tendered back to 
him when demanded, with as much promptness and affability, as is 
the most valuable deposit of his wealthy employer. It is a very re- 



380 APPENDIX. 

markable coincidence, and one which augurs well for the future 
prospects of the labouring classes, that these two circumstances 
should have occurred, as if to give them every opportunity of profit- 
ing by their elevated standard of enjoyment, just at the time when, 
by means altogther different, it was in contemplation to elevate that 
standard. These means are now beginning their operation ; and 
there is reason to expect, that the opportunities of moral and scien- 
tific instruction will soon be patent to every individual in the society. 
Among these means, we might enumerate our schools of arts, and 
our reading societies for the instruction of the old; and our parish 
and Sabbath-schools for the education of the young. 

These are institutions which have already been productive of the 
most salutary results, and of whose beneficent influence we may yet 
hope to behold more visible manifestations written upon the face of 
our country. By their instrumentality may we hope, even within 
the short period of our life-time, to see the balance of society more 
equally poised, — to behold our landlords retrenching a few of their 
more extravagant superfluities, in order to supply more liberally, 
with the comforts and conveniences of life, by far the most deserv- 
ing class of the community. 

On the whole there seems something like the dawning of a brighter 
era in the history of our world. Whether we listen to those cheer- 
ing reports, which are daily arriving from the friends of religion 
and philanthropy abroad, or direct our regards to the animating 
prospects of our home population ; we cannot help thinking, that 
we already descry the visible approach of a period which has long 
been expected by the Christian, as well as dreamt of, and longed for 
by the infidel philosopher ; a period, which, by the plenty and the 
happiness that shall be showered down upon every family, and by 
the fidelity, and the justice, and the benevolence, that shall animate 
every bosom, will outvie the high-wrought descriptions of a golden 
age, which poetic fancy has imagined. 

We, at least, who believe in the divine inspiration of the Bible, 
can look forward with joyful anticipation, to that time, when, in the 
language of the prophecy which has foretold its coming, " the know- 
ledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover the chan- 
nel of the deep." And then, under the influence of that pure and 
elevated morality, which Christianity shall universally diffuse, might 



ADDRESS ON MISSIONS. 381 

we confidently predict, that the economic condition of society shall 
assume a brighter aspect than ever yet it hath worn, since that day 
when man was driven from the blissful bowers of his first inherit- 
ance, and was condemned to earn his bread by the sweat of his 
brow. Then shall those private animosities and heart-burnings, 
which now embitter the joys of social intercourse, be for ever extin- 
guished : and then, too, shall the tribes of the human family forget 
those quarrels, which so long have been the scourge of this fair 
world ; " nation shall not rise up against nation, neither shall they 
learn the art of war any more." 

" St. Andrew's, April, 1825. 
"A truly admirable essay, replete with sound judgment, and 
felicitous illustration ; and announcing itself, at the first glance, 
as worthy of the highest prize. 

" Thomas Chalmers." 



K. 

ADDRESS TO THE ST. ANDREW'S UNIVERSITY MISSIONARY 
SOCIETY, ON THE DUTY OF PERSONAL ENGAGEMENT IN THE 
WORK OF MISSIONS. 

I am tired of arguing with the opponents of the missionary cause. 
It is my intention this evening to address myself to those who pro- 
fess to be its friends. 

I can easily conceive a mind so biassed by prejudice, as to take a 
distorted view of every argument that can be adduced on this, or 
indeed on any other subject whatever; or, a mind moving in such a 
sphere as never to have had these arguments fairly presented to it ; 
and, therefore, I am by no means disposed to speak roundly of all 
who refuse to lend their aid to missionary societies, in a tone of un- 
equivocal condemnation. But, I do confess. I cannot imagine a 



382 APPENDIX. 

mind which has deliberately weighed the arguments, and candidly 
considered the facts of this important subject, still refusing to em- 
bark its energies or its influence in some way or other, in the work 
of evangelizing the nations of the earth. Indeed, the cause of mis- 
sions has already met with such able defence, and the arguments 
of its opponents have been so often refuted, that they themselves 
seem to be almost sick of the very sound of their oft repeated objec- 
tions. And, more than this, as if to show that the subject is quite 
impregnable, even at those points which the adversaries have never 
assailed, the advocates for the promulgation of Christianity, like the 
advocates for the truth of Christianity before them, have even brought 
forward fictitious objections of their own invention, in order to de- 
monstrate with what perfect ease such objections could have been 
met, had the adversaries of the cause adduced them. And truly, 
after the champions of the missionary cause have done their part so 
well, it seems altogether needless still to keep up the debate with 
those who seem determined to resist the appeals of the most cogent 
reasoning, and even to set at nought the authority of human testi- 
mony. For of those who persist in denying the efficacy of mission- 
ary exertion, it may in truth be said, that they " will not believe the 
great work which the Lord is working in these days, even though a 
man declare it unto them." Surely, then, we cannot justly be 
charged with a want of charity, when thus compelled to the belief 
that after all, this pretended opposition of judgment on the part of 
our adversaries, is nothing but a screen for the coldness and indif- 
ference of their hearts. 

I turn, therefore, altogether at present from those who oppose 
these exertions of Christian philanthropy, and address myself to 
the friends of missions. I address myself to you, who, by being the 
members of a missionary society, profess yourselves the advocates 
and supporters of this benevolent scheme ; and, more especially, to 
those of you who, by entering on a course of study preparatory to 
the duties of the Christian ministry, have thereby professed to de- 
vote yourselves unreservedly to the service of God, in the gospel of 
his Son. 

And I do not address you, my friends, for the purpose of again 
repeating those unmeaning compliments that are wont to be pre- 
sented to the subscribers and office-bearers of missionary societies, 



ADDRESS ON MISSIONS. 383 

at such meetings as the present. I do fear that there is too much 
of the tone of this world's flattering adulation in the public language 
of our missionary assemblies. The doctrine of this essay may be 
unpalatable, but I believe it to be true, that the members of mis- 
sionary associations haye absolutely done nothing, when we consider 
the high demands of a cause whose object is the spiritual and moral 
renovation of a world. Neither do I address you for the purpose of 
picturing forth in the colouring of romance, the high devotedness of 
missionary character, and lofty achievements of the missionary life. 
This has often been done already; but like most other poetic de- 
scriptions, while it has excited the imagination, it has failed to influ- 
ence the conduct. It may have caused him who listened, to indulge 
in some fairy dream of exile and martyrdom for the sake of his reli- 
gion and his Saviour ; while all the while it is quite possible that 
not only he, but even the very person who drew the splendid pic- 
ture, may have remained altogether unimpressed with the sober con- 
victions of a duty his imagination had set forth in such glowing 
characters. In reality, this has been the case. One cannot help 
wondering, that of the many who have pleaded so earnestly for the 
cause of missions, and have declaimed so eloquently concerning the 
high dignity of the missionary enterprise, so few have been found 
who were willing to go forth to the combat. It seems to me, that 
while the enemies of missions have altogether despised and vilified 
the missionary office, the advocates of missions have erred in the 
other extreme, by regarding it with somewhat of a sentimental ad- 
miration, and by describing it rather as a work of supererogation 
than of duty. 

We have been too much accustomed to regard the missionary life 
as an undertaking of most extraordinary magnitude, and as reserved 
for a few of the most daring and devoted spirits in the race of living 
Christians ; and thus we easily succeed in pushing from ourselves 
the duty of personal engagement. But we should do well to view 
the matter apart from this borrowed splendour, which, by its glare 
obscures rather than brightens the object of our contemplation. 
After all the greater part of the work must be accomplished by ordi- 
nary men. And I am persuaded, if we but take a candid and sober 
view of the case, we shall begin to suspect that the matter may come 
home in the shape of duty, even to ourselves. Great, as are the sacri- 



384 APPENDIX. 

fices the missionary makes, they are but small when we take into 
account those sublime truths which we believe as well as he. And 
it is of the very deepest importance that we should bear in mind 
that those very sacrifices are represented in the Bible, not as the 
fruits of an overreaching faith which may fall to the lot of, but here 
and there, a mind of apostolic endowment ; but as the test of simple 
discipleship itself. " If any man come to me and hate not his father 
and mother, and wife and children, and brethren and sisters, yea, 
and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple." If by these, and 
the remarks that follow, I can impress the mind of any one of you 
with the duty of engaging in this great undertaking, let me warn 
such an individual of the delusion of putting such convictions away 
from him on the ground that this is a work far too high for him to 
engage in ; or under the deceitful impression that his shrinking from 
such an enterprise is a sign merely that his faith is weak, and has 
not yet acquired sufficient strength to warrant his engaging in a 
work of such difficulty and self-denial. If the words of Christ be 
true, which I have just repeated, to shrink from duty, even in the 
face of all the trials that present themselves in the contemplation of 
the missionary life, does not argue a weakness of faith merely, but a 
want of faith. The man who is not ready to part with country and 
even life itself, at the bidding of his Saviour, is not worthy of the 
name of a disciple. 

Now were it not that the minds of all of us, in regard to this sub- 
ject, are under the influence of most overpowering and bewildering 
prejudices, I am sure I should only have to lay before you the pre- 
sent state of missionary operations, in order to convince you of the 
duty of taking the question into most serious consideration : Whether 
you may not be called to engage in this work of evangelizing the 
heathen. You give your assent to the duty of sending the gospel 
to pagan countries, and by your subscriptions you profess your- 
selves willing to co-operate in the accomplishment of this grand 
object. And so far, you have done well. You may have thought 
you were doing all that was in your power for the furtherance of the 
great design, and you may have never once suspected that there was 
any call for greater services on your part. But if I can convince 
you, that there is such a call, then, on the simple score of consist- 
ency, you are bound to listen to it, and to obey it. For, if this mat- 



ADDRESS ON MISSIONS. 385 

ter demands our attention at all, it demands our deepest attention ; 
if it has a right to our services at all, it has a right to our most 
devoted services. If jou are not prepared to make greater sacrifices 
in this cause than you have ever yet done, when manifestly called 
to do so, then the little you have done will only serve most clearly 
to condemn you. Others, who deny the importance, or disbelieve 
the efficacy of the missionary project, may have some plausible ex- 
cuse for standing aloof: they are at least consistent with their own 
profession. But, assuredly, it does convict us of singular hard- 
heartedness towards our fellow-men, if our zeal for their conversion 
can carry us the length of giving up a few paltry shillings, which 
were not surrendered, it may be, at the expense of a single comfort, 
and our zeal can carry us no further. We might pardon, though 
we could not defend, the incredulity of the individual who would 
not believe that some family near was in a state of starvation ; but 
we should utterly detest the sordid avarice and unfeeling apathy of 
the man who by giving something, should just show us that he gave 
credit to the tale of suffering, and who yet, by the worthlessness of 
the trifle which he gave, should let us see that the wretchedness of 
his neighbour had made no suitable impression on his heart. 

Now, I say, there is a call for much more devoted services on your 
part, than you have ever yet rendered in the work of evangelizing 
the nations. If we are disposed to estimate the prosperity of the 
missionary cause from the sums that are annually poured into its 
coffers, we should indeed augur well of its success. But you are 
aware, that after all, money is but a subordinate part of the appa- 
ratus. It may be the main-spring of the machine, but it is not the 
machine itself. The agents, who go forth to the work, are the effec- 
tive part of the mechanism. And what avails it, that we have 
obtained a good moving power, if there be no machine to set it in 
motion? A good will to the cause of missions has been on the in- 
crease, but there is every reason to fear that the spirit of missionary 
zeal is on the decline. It has grown more fashionable of late to sub- 
scribe to missionary societies : in consequence of this, the revenues 
of the different societies have been so increased, as would enable 
them to extend their plans, could they but find a sufficient number 
of zealous and devoted agents. But such is the languishing state 
of missionary zeal, so little is there of what Home would call "a 

33 



386 APPENDIX. 

passion for missions, " that it is with considerable difficulty the pre- 
sent stations can be supplied ; and, in such circumstances, it is alto- 
gether vain to talk of extending the plan of missionary operations. 

When first the proposal was made to send the heralds of salvation 
to the ends of the earth, the Christian world received the proposal 
with eagerness and joy. A splendid equipment was fitted out, and 
many were desirous of sharing the honours of the victory that was 
so confidently and so ardently anticipated. But the novelty of the 
missionary enterprise is gone ; and it would seem that the spirit of 
undaunted chivalry which a scheme of such lofty sublimity, and 
such disinterested benevolence, at first excited, has languished, and 
well nigh expired under the heavy pressure of those difficulties and 
discouragements which an actual experiment has brought to light. 

The Scottish Missionary Society is in want of labourers; the Lon- 
don Missionary Society is in want of labourers ; the Church Mission- 
ary Society (to the shame of the churchmen of England be it told) 
have for some time been compelled to gather the missionaries, whom 
they send forth, from the other countries of Europe. And, to sum 
up all, even among the Moravians themselves, so famed for the de- 
votedness of their missionary zeal, that spirit of other days, which 
could brook slavery and death for the sake of Jesus, would seem to 
have died away. Of them, it once could be said, that, no sooner 
was a missionary station vacant, than there was an eager competi- 
tion who should have the honour to supply it ; for then it was counted 
an honour, for the love they bore to Christ, to succeed to a dreary 
station, amid eternal snows, or to fill the places of those who had 
fallen by the murderous hand of the savages for whose sakes they 
had left their country and their home. But now there is a difficulty 
in finding persons willing to go even to stations of ordinary comfort 
and ease. In this state of matters, what avails the increase of mis- 
sionary funds ? Do you not feel that there is a loud call for some- 
thing more than mere subscriptions? And to whom can this appeal 
be made, but to the members of missionary associations ? And on 
whom can it be urged home, more forcibly than on those who have 
professed to surrender the whole energies of their minds and their 
bodies to the promulgation of the religion of Christ ? 

This is a statement of facts, and such a statement, I am sure, 
would be quite sufficient to call forth the willing offer of his services, 



ADDRESS ON MISSIONS. 387 

from any one who believes in the efficacy of missionary exertion, and 
who is not tied down by some peculiar circumstances to his native 
land, were it not that the mind is driven from its convictions of 
duty, by prejudices and affections, the strongest that can influence 
our nature — and I will even say, the purest that can oppose the 
will of God. Accordingly, I have found in my own experience, 
that even those who are most liberal in their donations to missionary 
societies, and most active in spreading among their friends a spirit 
of good will to this work of Christian philanthropy, immediately 
abate their ardour, and turn upon another tack, so soon as the duty 
of personal engagement is pressed home upon themselves, or even 
upon any of their near relations. Those who are most strenuous in 
their arguments for the general cause of missions, instantly start 
objections to the proposal of themselves becoming missionaries. A 
thousand plausible arguments immediately present themselves. Our 
own country has much higher claims upon us, all are not yet con- 
verted here. Besides, the success of missionaries has not been very 
great ; and we think we can do more good by remaining at home. 
Such arguments, when in the mouth of an opponent to the general 
cause of missions, none so forward to answer, or so eloquent in re- 
futing as they ; and yet to the very same refuges do they betake 
themselves, when we merely carry out a little further, and make a 
new application of their own previous assertions. 

Nor do I at all wonder at this, though I cannot apologize for it. 
The ties which bind us to our country and our home, cannot be so 
easily broken. The love which we bear to parents, and sisters, and 
brothers, and a whole circle of affectionate friends, is perhaps the 
strongest passion that has its seat in the human breast ; and Chris- 
tianity, far from impairing, refines and strengthens the attachment. 
The land which gave us birth, and where our fathers lived before us, 
and the companions of our youth, and the affectionate guardians of 
our tender infancy, are objects which most, of earthly things, deserve 
our love. There is but one, and only one Being, in the universe, 
whom we are commanded to love with a stronger affection. It is 
little wonder then, that when feelings like these — so strong, that no 
time or distance can ever efface their influence ; and so pure, that 
piety itself imparts to them a tone of deeper tenderness — that when 
feelings like these exert an opposing influence, even the most devoted 



388 APPENDIX. 

Christian should be startled at the first proposal of a duty which 
speaks destruction to them all. 

It is on this account that I feel the statement of facts I have laid 
before you, may not be sufficient to call forth your services to the 
work, which loudly calls for them, and in which }'ou profess to take 
an interest. It is only on this account that I feel that the statement 
1 have made needs to be enforced by arguments. For I believe, 
that to a mind which could take an unprejudiced view of the matter, 
no reasoning would be required to convince him of the urgency of 
the appeal, and no argument, however strong, could add to the force 
of the simple statement. 

I feel, however, that it is necessary to reason with you. And the 
main argument on which I would insist, is founded on the command- 
ment of our Saviour ; " Go ye and teach all nations," This has 
often been repeated by the advocates of missionary exertion ; and 
though it may thereby have lost something of its freshness, it has 
yet lost nothing of its force. I consider it still the strong hold of 
the missionary cause. But I am inclined to take a more extended 
view of the precept. Not only do I look upon this little verse as the 
great foundation on which all arguments for missions must be re- 
ceived, — but as the only scriptural authority which we can have for 
preaching the gospel at all. I can conceive many other induce- 
ments, which lead men in our own land to profess, or pretend to be 
ministers of God. But I believe, that every truly Christian minister 
in the land, must rest the whole authority of his commission on this 
and similar commandments. Now you must all perceive the bear- 
ing of this argument. It places our own country exactly on the 
same footing with the other nations of the earth, — and it makes the 
work of the missionary abroad, and the minister at home, one 
and the same work. The world is the field ; and the preaching 
of the gospel is the work to be accomplished. And it is only in as 
far as Great Britain is one of the "all nations" specified in the 
terms of the commission, that we have any warrant from scripture 
to preach the gospel here. Grant me but this view of the subject, 
and the question comes home with irresistible force. How comes it 
that all the labourers should have contrived to cluster together in 
one little corner of the vineyard? What special order has been 
given by the Lord about this little island on which we dwell? Or, 



ADDRESS ON MISSIONS. 389 

in what does the vast superiority of its claims consist ? It is no- 
thing to my argument, that in this country, an ecclesiastical estab- 
lishment has poured forth its benefices over the land, and has con- 
nected with the profession of the Christian ministry, the comforts of 
civilized life, and the enjoyments of a refined society, — or the op- 
portunities of literary and scientific retirement. With the hirelings 
that have crept into the church, at present, I have nothing to do. 
Neither is it any thing to me, that numerous sectaries with which 
some of us may be connected have spread themselves over the land, 
and are struggling for the superiority. I have no sympathy with 
the outcry that is made by each rival party, about the interests of 
their cause, I know of no cause that demands the homage of our 
hearts, and our services, but the cause of Christ. Now, strip our 
country of these, and other accessory distinctions, which I think all 
of you will admit, should have no control in giving it a higher claim 
upon our Christian services, and then tell me wherein it differs from 
other lands, in as far as the scriptural argument for the preaching 
of the gospel is concerned. 

I am persuaded, that with all our knowledge of geography, we 
are accustomed, from irresistible prejudices, to rate the extent and 
importance of our own country much too high. Now, in order to 
dissipate this delusion, and give the subject a more manageable ap- 
pearance, let us try if we can take a reduced sketch of the world, 
diminishing every thing proportionally, just as a land surveyor finds 
it convenient to draw upon paper a reduced representation of the 
estate which he has been measuring. 

Let us imagine, that instead of the world, a single country had 
been pointed out by our Lord as the field of action. And, since we 
are most familiar with our own land, let us just suppose that the 
particular country specified, was the island of Great Britain : and 
that, instead of the command to go forth into all nations, and preach 
the gospel to every creature, — the order had been, to go throughout 
all the counties of this island, and preach the gospel to every in- 
habitant. I find, that on a scale which would make the population 
of Great Britain represent that of the world, the population of such 
a count}' as Mid Lothian might be taken, as a sufficiently accurate 
representation of the population of our own land. 

In order then, to have a just picture of the present state of the 
33* 



390 appendix/ 

world, only conceive, that all who had received the above commis- 
sion, somehow or other, had contrived to gather themselves together 
within the limits of this single county. Imagine to yourselves, all 
the other divisions of Scotland and England immersed in heathen 
darkness ; and that by these Christians, who had so unaccountably 
happened to settle down together in one little spot, no effort was 
made to evangelize the rest of the land, except by collecting a little 
money, and sending forth two or three itinerants, to walk single- 
handed through the length and breadth of the country. 

I shall be told, however, that illustration is not argument ; and so 
distorted have our views been on this subject, that you will be dis- 
posed to think this a perfect caricature of the matter. But I deny 
that this is an illustration at all. It is merely a representation, on a 
reduced scale ; and I believe you will find it to be a correct repre- 
sentation of the state of the world. It is no argument against the 
conclusions of the practical mathematician, that his calculations 
have had to do, not with the very objects or doctrines themselves 
about which he determines, but with proportional representations 
of them which he has delineated. The very same thing holds here. 
And if you but grant the correctness of my representation, then the 
deductions made from it are every whit as conclusive, as if our minda 
could so expand, as to do away with the necessity of the represen- 
tation, and could gather their conclusions with as much ease from 
the consideration of the objects themselves about which we reason. 

You will permit me, therefore, to argue from the representation a 
little further. 

Were I to ask you what, in the case we supposed, you would im- 
agine to be the duty of the ministers who had clustered within the 
limits of a single county, when their commission embraced every 
county in the land ; you would at once reply, that they ought to 
spread themselves over the face of the country, till every corner of 
the field shared equally in the benefit of their ministrations. Now I 
am almost afraid to transfer this question from the representation to 
the actual case before us. Not, but that I believe I might most legi- 
timately do so, but because I feel that I cannot carry along with me 
the sympathies of the Christian world. In fact, I am arguing at 
present for a much humbler effort, than the fair answer to such a 
question would land us in. To return to our ideal field of opera- 



ADDRESS ON MISSIONS. 391 

tion, let us suppose, that even the little band of itinerants began to 
fail, and a difficulty was found to recruit their numbers. Let us sup- 
pose, that the funds collected were sufficient to send forth more, if 
any could but be found who were willing to go. Let us try if we 
can fancy any thing in the shape of an excuse, which our professed 
evangelism could allege, for still refusing to quit the little territory 
to which they had all along so pertinaciously adhered. Some might 
say, they did not think it was the proper time to go forth. You 
might meet them with the unlimited command of their Master, and 
especially his promise, to be always with them in the work to which 
the commandment called them. Others might say, they did not 
think those who had gone forth already, had taken the right plan, 
and might even urge, in support of this, that actually the two or 
three preachers who had been sent forth had not yet converted the 
country. The direct reply to such, would be, — The error of another 
is no apology for your disobedience. It is only a louder call to you 
to fulfil the command of your Lord, by some plan which will be more 
agreeable to his will. Such excuses might be framed by those who 
had never co-operated in the little effort that had been made. But 
can you conceive, that those who had given their entire consent to 
the plan itself, and had been zealous in sending forth others, could 
have any imaginable excuse for shrinking back, when their per- 
sonal services were called for ? Let us try if we can invent any. 
They might tell us, there were yet many within the little sphere 
they had allotted to themselves who were yet unconverted. They 
might bear witness to their own negligence, by telling us, that ac- 
tually there were still some within their own sphere of action, to 
whom the message they had received from the Lord, had never been 
fairly delivered. They might express their apprehension, that if they 
began to go forth over the face of the country, the little spot which 
they had hitherto cultivated with so much care, might hereafter be 
overlooked in the wide field which lay before them, and come to be 
altogether neglected. And some might even have the effrontery to 
tell us, that they quite felt the urgency of the call, to go forth over 
the face of the country ; but for their part, they had rather stay at 
home, and persuade others to go. 

You feel that there is something ludicrous in the yery de- 
scription. There is such an utter discrepancy between the command 



392 APPENDIX. 

and the professed obedience of it ; between the work to be perform- 
ed, and the scantiness of the means that are expected to accomplish 
it ; between the obvious call of duty, and the frivolous excuses by 
which they are evaded. Now, would this were but an imaginary 
picture ; but it must recommend itself to all of you as too true a 
representation of the present state of the world, and of the kind of 
obedience which the disciples of Christ render to the last command 
of their Lord and Saviour. 

I have thus tried to set before you, and illustrate my main argu- 
ment, that the world is one field, and consequently that every min- 
ister of Christ should be ready to go to that part of the field, wherever 
it be, which stands most in need of his services. You must perceive 
that we have taken it upon ourselves to circumscribe most unwar- 
rantably the limits of our commission ; and that in these days no- 
thing adequate to the fulfilment of our Lord's command has so much 
as been attempted. I have pressed upon you the loud demand that 
there is at present for labourers, in order to maintain even the com- 
paratively feeble effort which the Christian world has of late put 
forth ; and you perceived that the objections to this appeal just 
hinted at, appeared sufficiently frivolous. I am aware, however, 
that on these, or similar objections, the whole force of your refusal 
to obey this call, must rest ; and, therefore, I feel it necessary to 
take each of them singly into more serious consideration. 

I shall say nothing concerning the argument that the heathen are 
not in a fit state for receiving the gospel, and other similar objec- 
tions. These are adduced only by the opponents of missionary so- 
cieties. I take it for granted at present that I am addressing those 
who give their full assent to the duty of sending the gospel to the 
heathen, and who give their decided approbation to the plans that 
are in operation for the accomplishment of this grand object. The 
arguments which I mean to consider at present, are those which are 
urged by the supporters of missionary operations, when a demand 
is made for their own personal services. Among the most prominent 
of these, is the assertion, that all are not yet converted in our own 
land, and therefore our own country has the first claim upon our 
regard. The terms of the argument are very true, but the conclu- 
sion drawn from it I believe to be false. It is a lamentable fact, 
that so many in our own land are not under the power of the gospel. 



ADDRESS ON MISSIONS. 393 

But why? In by far the greater number of instances, because 
they will not come unto Christ that they may have life. Have they 
not had the message of mercy proclaimed to them, and what more can 
the messenger do ? Have they not been plied, Sabbath after Sabbath, 
with the call to repent and believe the gospel, and if they still re- 
main impenitent, what more can man accomplish ? Can we hope to 
do more than apostles, with all their miraculous powers, and their 
unwavering faith, could effect? When the gospel was declared by 
those extraordinary men who had trod this earth in the company 
of their incarnate God ; and who, after he left them, were visited 
with the supernatural endowments of his Spirit, — the account of 
their success is, that " some believed the things which were spoken, 
and some believed not." And as long as the Scripture doctrine of 
election holds true, it will still be found, wherever this gospel is pro- 
claimed, that some will receive the message, and some will most ob- 
stinately reject it. Far be it from me to adduce the doctrine of 
election as a reason why we should ever cease to ply with all our 
earnestness, and admonish with all our tenderness, the most hardened 
unbeliever, or the veriest scoffer at sacred things. But I am quite 
warranted in adducing it, in order to show the fallacy of the expec- 
tation, that we shall ever be able, by any concentration of our en- 
ergies to any sphere however narrow, to convert all who dwell with- 
in these limits, to the truth of the gospel. We do well to consider 
whether by such expectations we be not opposing the purposes of 
God. He has given us no reason to indulge the hope that he will 
choose his people exclusively from our nation, although that nation 
has been favoured very highly. He has said that he will take one 
of a city and two of a family ; and it is said of the redeemed in 
heaven, that they have been gathered " out of every kindred, and 
tongue, and people, and nation." 

But it may be said, that I am not giving a fair view of the case, 
for that very many in our own land have never had the message of 
mercy fairly proclaimed to them. This is too true, and a disgrace it 
is to the ministers, and even the private Christians of Britain. How 
easily might the numerous evangelical ministers of the land, or at 
least the evangelical ministers among the dissenters who are hind- 
ered by no ecclesiastical authority from preaching the truth where 
they think it has not been fully declared : how easily, I say, might 



394 APPENDIX. 

they dispel the ignorance that yet darkens the spiritual atmosphere 
of this enlightened country? But, after all, I do not feel the force 
of this claim when weighed against the claim of those who are 
literally perishing for lack of knowledge. I do believe that every 
inhabitant of our land has heard so much, as makes him utterly in- 
excusable if he be ignorant of the way of acceptance before God. 
If he sits under a minister who perverts, or but imperfectly declares 
the gospel, he has the standard of truth in his hand, and by the 
Bible he can, and he ought to try the doctrine, whether it be of God. 
If he have not a Bible himself, he has seen it in the possession of 
others, or at least he has heard that there is such a book, which 
many believe to be a revelation from Heaven. And, finally, even in 
the haunts of the most abandoned depravity, where ignorance and 
wickedness may have spread a gloom as dismal as the darkness of 
paganism itself, even there the wretched inmates are still reminded 
of a God and a Saviour ; if by nothing else, yet by the weekly re- 
turn of a day of unusual stillness, and by the oft repeated and well 
known invitations of the Sabbath bell. But when you urge as an 
excuse for remaining in this land, that some within its borders are 
yet ignorant of the terms of mercy, do you, indeed, mean to wander 
from parish to parish, and illumine every dark corner on which the 
light of truth has not yet shone ? Or will you venture, where none 
have dared to venture before you, within the receptacles of vice and 
infamy, to proclaim the tale of a Saviour's sufferings to those who 
may have never heard of his name ? If you will not, or cannot do 
these things, then this argument is no argument for you. 

Closely connected with this objection, that all are not yet con- 
verted in our own land, there is the apprehension lest a spirit of 
missionary zeal should damp the spirit of exertion at home, and 
that our own country should suffer from our attention to foreign 
lands. The spirit which excites this apprehension for the eternal 
welfare of our countrymen, deserves the highest commendation. 
But depend upon it the fear is quite unfounded. I am quite willing 
to allow that our kinsmen according to the flesh have the first claim 
upon our Christian sympathy. It is true that, as the messengers of 
Christ, and as far as the command of our Saviour is concerned, the 
world is all before us, and no country has any peculiar claim upon 
our regard. But as men who are linked to those around us by bonds 



ADDRESS ON MISSION'S. 395 

so strong as those of relationship, and all the other connections which 
form the cement of civil society, there is no doubt something very 
peculiar in the claims of our native land. To true patriotism I am 
willing to allow all the eulogiums that poets and orators have heaped 
upon it. The love of our country is a very noble affection. But 
there is a thing which has been misnamed patriotism, which consists 
not so much in loving our own country, as in despising and disre- 
garding every other. But surely it but ill accords with the liberal 
sentiment of the present age, to despise any brother of the human 
family, because he has not sworn allegiance to the same sovereign 
with ourselves ; or because, forsooth, he happens to be separated 
from us by some river and mountain, or imaginary political boun- 
dary. Time was, when in our own little country, every petty chief 
was a monarch ; and whatever may be the associations that romance 
has gathered around these olden times, every generous mind must 
look back with detestation and disgust on that narrowminded spirit 
of clanship, which could tie down the affections of an individual to 
the few families that happened to bear the same name, or to serve 
the same lord with himself, and which pronounced him the noblest 
of his clan, who hated with the deadliest malice the whole world 
besides. But what is this pretended patriotism but the dross of this 
same detestable spirit. We surely have not need to be told in this 
age of enlightened liberality, that God has made of one blood, all 
nations that are on the face of the earth. And if the spirit of the 
age cannot reclaim us, Christianity at least should reclaim us from 
such bigoted narrowness. A spirit of true patriotism is in perfect 
harmony with a spirit of the most extended liberality. Your be- 
nevolence must overflow the narrow channel, ere it can dilate itself 
over a wider surface. Just tell me of a man that he is a general 
philanthropist, and I can immediately conceive of that man, that 
his family and social affections are stronger than those of other in- 
dividuals. There may be exceptions to this rule, it is true ; for it 
is quite possible to find monsters in the moral world, as well as in 
the natural. All I assert is, that it is the general tendency of an 
extended benevolence to unite us in closer affection than ever, to 
those objects which have a nearer relation to us. And, indeed, in the 
late extension of our Christian philanthropy to other lands, this 
principle has been most beautifully illustrated. Whence sprung our 



396 APPENDIX. 

tract societies, our school societies, our itinerant societies, and the 
other institutions that are now in operation for instructing the igno- 
rant of our own land ? They have all originated in the impulse that 
was given to Christian philanthropy, by the formation of the Mis- 
sionary Society. The stream of Christian benevolence, when it 
sought its way to the ends of the earth, first filled and overflowed 
the reservoir that had contained it. The very consideration of the 
case of those who were further removed from them, made the Chris- * 
tians of our land take a deeper interest in the situation of those who 
were connected with them bv stronger ties. It is on this account 
that I would have you to extend your views still further, till not only 
would I have you think of our country as a little spot, when com- 
pared with the world, that so you may feel the close relationship 
that exists between ourselves and our fellow-countrymen ; but I 
would have you think of this globe itself, on which we dwell, as but 
one among the myriads that travel with it in their mighty journeys, 
through boundless immensity. And then will you begin to feel that 
the whole human race forms but one little family in the universe of 
God. We shall thus yet forget those little distinctions which the 
ambition and avarice of man have made upon the face of our globe. 
We shall feel ourselves to be denizens of this earth, and the inhabi- 
tants of the universe. We shall feel that we are united to our fel- 
low-men by stronger ties than the indefinite relation which subsists 
among all the creatures of God. Are we not united by the ties of a 
common nature ? Are we not involved in a common calamity, in 
that we have forfeited the favour of our God, — a calamity which, 
for aught we know, may have happened to our race alone, of all the 
families of the universe ? And is not a common pardon offered, and 
has not a common Saviour died for us all? 

I have thus tried to answer the objections that spring from an 
overweening partiality to our own country, and from the ignorance 
and unbelief that still exists there. But by far the most triumphant 
answer to all these arguments is founded on the authority of apos- 
tolic example. Paul the apostle had a much stronger attachment to 
his country than any modern patriot can boast. He wished himself 
even accursed from Christ, for his brethren's sake, and yet he gloried 
in being the apostle of the Gentiles. But there were feelings stronger 
than patriotism, that bound the early disciples to the land of their 



ADDRESS ON MISSIONS. 397 

fathers ; feelings which none bat an Israelite could experience. Their 
country was the favoured land of heaven. Their countrymen were 
the chosen people of God. And if any may urge as an excuse for 
lingering in the land of their nativity, that all their countrymen had 
not yet embraced the gospel, assuredly the apostles and early evan- 
gelists might have used this plea. Bat far different was their con- 
duct. They thought it enough to have fairly offered the terms of 
mercy to their countrymen, and when some rejected the message 
which they delivered, so far from thinking this a reason why they 
should still remain, they considered it as the very signal for their 
departure. They thought that those who had never had the offer of 
God's favour, had now a prior claim upon their regard ; and they 
addressed their countrymen in such language as the following: "It 
was necessary that the word of God should first have been spoken to 
you ; but seeing ye put it from you, and judge yourselves unworthy 
of everlasting life, lo, we turn to the Gentiles/' 

There is still one other argument, perhaps the most plausible of 
all, against engaging in the work of missions, and to which I beg 
very briefly to advert. It is, that in the present state of matters, we 
can do more good at home than abroad. A minister in this country, 
it is said, may make as many, and sometimes more converts, than 
the missionary in a heathen country. And the question is trium- 
phantly put, whether the soul that is converted at the distance of 
some thousand miles from our land be more precious than the soul 
which is converted in our own neighbourhood ; and whether it be 
not a matter of as great thankfulness and joy that a soul has been 
delivered from a state of self-delusion, though living in a country 
called Christian, as that a heathen has been turned from idols to 
serve the living God. The argument has a great semblance of fair- 
ness, but I think we shall find it to be unsound. 

In the first place, it is not true, that in general the success of min- 
isters at home is greater than that of those who labour in heathen 
lands. And, secondly, though it be allowed that the conversion of 
a soul is not more acceptable to God, because of the place where the 
conversion is wrought, yet there is much in the case of those who 
first turn to the Lord from a nation of idolaters, that may well fill 
our hearts with unusual joy and thankfulness, inasmuch as these are 
thejlrst fruits of a hi-therto uncultivated field, and may be regarded 

34 



398 APPENDIX, 

as the earnest of an abundant harvest. In the same manner, you 
can easily conceive, how a few grains of wheat, though compara- 
tively little worth in a cultivated country, might acquire an im- 
mense value in a new colony, where no other seed could be obtained. 
Besides, there is much in preparing the way. We are not to sup- 
pose, that the conversion of a world is to be the work of one genera- 
tion. The ground must be cleared, ere we can so much as sow the 
seed, and this must be a season of toil, and difficulty, and discour- 
agement. 

You would perceive the fallacy of the objection now under con- 
sideration, in almost any case but the one before us. Let us sup- 
pose an accommodation of our Saviour's parable of the vineyard, to 
the present circumstances of the world. Imagine to yourselves all 
the husbandmen to have settled down in one little fertile corner of 
the vineyard, and to have left all the rest with the soil unbroken, 
covered with briars and thorns, and trodden down by the beasts of 
the forest. When called to account for their negligence, you may 
conceive them to answer: "Our fathers have planted vines, and 
they have yielded fruit luxuriantly ; and we truly thought, that we 
were acting best for your advantage, in choosing that spot for our 
labours, where the fruit was most abundant." Who would not see, 
in such a case, that their own ease had been consulted, and not 
their master's interest? And who could help the suspicion, that 
they wanted to press into their own cup of the overflowing vintage? 

I have thus tried to set before you the present state of the mission- 
ary cause, and the loud call which there is for efficient labourers. I 
have stated to you the- great argument, that the world is one field, 
and that our Saviour's command is not fulfilled, so long as the dis- 
tribution of his ministers over this field is so very unequal. And, 
finally, I have tried to answer some of the objections that are made 
to personal engagement in the work. 

The matter, some time ago, presented itself very forcibly to my 
own mind, and I felt that it at least demanded my serious considera- 
tion. As I have proceeded with my enquiries on the subject, the 
difficulties seemed to have gathered thicker on the prospect, but the 
convictions of duty have grown stronger too. The arguments for 
personal engagement, seem to me to have acquired the strength of a 
demonstration. I have, therefore, resolved, with the help of God, 



ADDRESS ON MISSIONS. 399 

to devote my life to the cause ; and I have only solemnly to charge 
every one of you, who are looking forward to the ministry of Christ, 
to take this matter into most serious consideration. 

Some of you may think that I have not satisfactorily answered 
the objections which may be urged against personally engaging in 
the work, and other objections may possibly present themselves to 
some of you. But I ask you, seriously to examine whether there 
do not lurk under these objections, a want of devotedness to God, 
and a secret love of the world. Why is it that there is an eager 
competition for the ministerial office in our own land, where a com- 
fortable salary is annexed to the preaching of the gospel ? And why 
is it that the love of country can be overcome, whenever any worldly 
advantage is to be gained ? But when the gospel is to be preached 
where there is no reward, but the reward of winning souls to Christ ; 
and no honour, but the honour that cometh from God; there alone 
the ranks of the labourers are thin, and there deficiencies can with 
difficulty be supplied. I mean no uncharitable insinuations respect- 
ing your motives, but I ask you, if too much reason has not been 
given for the outcry that has been made against priestcraft, by the 
worldling or the infidel ! 

Do not think I wish to press you into this service. It is a maxim, 
which much experience has taught the Moravians, never to persuade 
any man to become a missionary. I have laid the matter before 
you, and I leave it with your own conscience, as you soon must 
answer before God. 

I have the happiness to mention to you, that your respected secre- 
tary, of last year, has given himself to the work ; and I know that 
there are some present who have felt the urgency of the call. 

I am not without the hope, that even from this unnoticed associa- 
tion, a little band of devoted labourers may be raised up, who shall 
carry the name of their Saviour to the ends of the earth, and shall 
meet in another world, to receive that high reward, which is reserved 
for those who have left father, and mother, and sister, and brother, 
and houses, and lands for Christ's sake, and the gospel's. 



400 APPENDIX. 



ADDRESS TO A SOCIETY OF YOUNG MEN, WHOM I WISH TO 
MEET WITH ME, ONCE A WEEK, FOR RELIGIOUS INSTRUC- 
TION. 

As I have called you together, my friends, with only a very gene- 
ral intimation of what we propose to do at these weekly meetings, it 
may be necessary before we enter on the regular exercises, briefly 
to explain to you the design and nature of the association, which we 
are met this evening to form, and the motives which have induced 
me to attempt its formation. 

You know that the age in which we live is very gloriously distin- 
guished by the exertions which are making for the religious improve- 
ment of the whole world. In former ages, Christians seem to have 
had so much to do in providing for their own spiritual comfort, and 
fleeing from the hand of the persecutor, that we cannot wonder if 
they thought but little of the wants of others ; or, thinking of them, 
could do but little to relieve them. In these ages of ignorance and 
bigotry, the flame of Christian benevolence was damped, but its fire 
was not wholly extinguished ; and when civil and religious liberty 
were again restored, it burst forth with fresh and undecayed vigour, 
from the grasp of that oppression which had for a while restrained 
its energy. In these days, and in the happy country in which we 
live, we see the principles of the gospel of peace left (to a certain ex- 
tent at least) to their own free operation, no longer adulterated so 
much as formerly, by the allurements of human ambition, and no 
longer in any degree restrained by the threatenings of human power. 
You live in a neighbourhood that may remind you of other days ; 
" The battle of Bothwell Brig" is not yet forgotten. May it be re- 
membered only to inspire us with thankfulness, that we need no 
longer to fight for our religious privileges ; but can each of us sit 
under his own vine, and his own fig-tree, none daring to make us 
afraid. At length men have happily begun to see, that carnal wea- 
pons are altogether unfit, either for the defence or furtherance of a 
kingdom, which is spiritual ; and the happy effects of unrestrained 
liberty of conscience, and freedom of discussion, are universally felt 



ADDRESS ON RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 401 

and acknowledged, by those who differ most widely in almost all 
other opinions. In these circumstances, we see that spirit of Chris- 
tian philanthropy again awakened in the breasts of modern Chris- 
tians, which glowed so fervently in the hearts of the early believers. 
The effects of religious liberty on the revival of Christian benevolence, 
must forcibly strike those of you who are at all acquainted with the 
history of philanthropy, during the last fifty years. 

Within that short period, many institutions have been formed, 
most diversified indeed in their modes of operation, and in the more 
immediate purposes for which they are intended, but all having for 
their grand and ultimate object, the glory of God, and the best inter- 
ests of man. These institutions do not confine their operations to one 
country or to one class of individuals. The field of their benevolent 
exertions extends over the whole habitable globe ; and they embrace 
within the range of their benefits, people of almost every rank and 
every condition. We might enumerate among those intended for the 
temporal and religious improvement of our own countrymen, Bible 
Societies, whose operations are also extended to other nations, whose 
object is to furnish with the word of God such as could not, or would 
not otherwise obtain it ; Home Missionary Societies, for sending 
the preachers of that word to such as are without the range of an 
evangelical ministry ; Religious Tract Societies, for breaking down 
religious publications into a suitable form, and furnishing them at 
reduced prices, to encourage an extensive circulation ; and had we 
time to extend our attention to those institutions which have an 
especial regard to the temporal welfare of our fellow-men, you know 
well that we might introduce a lengthened list of charitable institu- 
tions, of which not the least interesting, or the least important, are 
those Mechanics' Institutions, which are now forming in the most 
populous parts of the country, and which bid fair to make the labour- 
ing classes tread upon the heels of their superiors, in the walks of 
science and philosophy. But our business at present is with reli- 
gious institutions, and we remark, that besides those we have men- 
tioned, which are especially designed for those who are grown up to 
manhood, we have also Sabbath-schools, with all their appendages, 
for the religious instruction of children. 

While these institutions embrace a field so vast, and a variety of 
character so diversified, we cannot wonder if there should be some 

34* 



402 APPENDIX. 

peculiarity of disposition or circumstances to which the operations of 
none of them are specifically adapted. Such a peculiarity, I con- 
ceive, is to be found in the case of young people of our own age. We 
are, generally speaking, too young to sympathize with the religious 
feelings of the old ; and on the other hand, we are too old to submit 
to the discipline of institutions which are intended for the instruc- 
tion of children. 

When I say that we are too young to sympathize with the religious 
feelings of the old, let me not be misunderstood. Far be it from me to 
say that we are too young to feel interested in the preaching of the 
gospel ; or even too young to unite ourselves to a Christian Church, 
and to unite in the most sublime and delightful exercises of the 
Christian sanctuary. If there be any age more suited than another 
for receiving impressions of an unseen world, and boldly declaring 
ourselves on the Lord's side, it is surely that age when the affections 
are warm, the conscience not yet seared, nor the heart hardened by 
the deceitfulness of sin. What I mean to say, is, that many of us 
are not yet old enough, or may not think ourselves old enough to 
talk familiarly of religion with our parents and their associates, to 
enter into their views, and to sympathize with their feelings. Their 
trials, their temptations, their besetting sins, and even their plea- 
sures and their hopes in this life, are all different from ours. There 
is a reverence about age that forbids too great familiarity : we feel more 
at ease when talking to those of our own age ; and especially on the 
subject of religion, we feel a reserve when conversing with those who 
are much older than ourselves. From the conversation of the young 
again, this most important subject is often banished by mutual con- 
sent, as something gloomy ; or at least too serious for youth, and 
that may with great safety be put off to an age of greater gravity 
and seriousness. It thus appears that in all that period of our life, 
when we have thrown off the habits of childhood, and have begun 
to think for ourselves, the important interests of eternity are too 
apt to be forgotten, and this important age seems to me not to be 
provided as it might be, with religious instruction peculiarly adapted 
to it. It is a period when the Christian parent or the guardian 
thinks he has done all he can. He has sown the good seed of in- 
struction in the heart, and watered it, it may be with tears and 
earnest prayers ; and he thinks that he may now rest from his la- 



ADDRESS ON RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 403 

hours, that he may now abate his watchfulness. And how frequently 
does it happen, that while he thus slumbers, the enemy comes and 
sows tares among the wheat, and the instructor looks in vain in the 
character of the man, for the fruits of those admonitions which he 
had so carefully instilled into the mind of the boy. It is the design 
of this meeting, my friends, to keep you in mind of early instruction, 
if you have enjoyed it, or to lead your attention to it now, if you 
have not had the privilege of a religious education. 

The period of youth is, in many respects, the most important 
period of our life. It is the period when we are exposed to most 
danger, and it is the period when the character is generally formed. 
The opinions then received, are generally most pertinaciously ad- 
hered to through the rest of life. 

It is not when the seed lies covered in the bosom of the soil that 
there is the most danger from an unpropitious season ; though even 
then the parching heat may prevent its springing, or the too copious 
rain may sour it in its bed ; neither is it when the plant has at- 
tained its full maturity, and has been hardened by its exposure to 
many a storm ; but that is the period of the greatest danger, when 
the tender germ has just left the kindly protection of the earth, and 
is first exposed to the rude blast and the piercing cold. 

And so it is with man, who has often been compared to the flower 
of the field. Ifc is not when he enjoys the protection of a father's 
roof, and the advantage of parental instruction, though even then, a 
bad system of education may ruin his after-character. Neither is it 
after he has been long exposed to the temptations of the world. The 
character has in general, by that time, been formed, either in ac- 
cordance with the practice of the world, or in opposition to these 
practices. The danger is then past, though it may not have been 
avoided. It is when the youth first goes out into the world that the 
danger is at its greatest : it is then that every impulse, especially if 
it be sinful, and therefore congenial to the mind, is apt to give a di- 
rection to the future character; and, consequently, that every 
temptation is too apt to bring destruction along with it. 

Some of you may have received a religious education, and may be 
"well acquainted with the doctrines of the gospel. But do not pre- 
sume that, on this account, you are quite impregnable to the assaults 



404 APPENDIX. 

of temptation, and may safely pass without a struggle, the most 
critical period of life. 

In some respects, the very fact of having enjoyed a religious edu- 
cation, makes that time more critically dangerous, when you begin 
to enjoy it no longer. The plant that has been reared in a hot-house, 
and is guarded from all that could injure its infant growth, suffers 
more, when exposed to the inclemencies of the open sky, than that 
which has not been so carefully nurtured. 

To one whose childhood has been protected by pious parents, sin 
is still by nature as agreeable as it is to others, and to him it has the 
additional charm of novelty. To another, the wickedness of the 
world has been gradually made known, as his mind gradually ex- 
pands ; but from such an individual, it is kept for a time almost se- 
cret, till at length it bursts all at once upon him. While under pious 
parents, the current of temptation has been kept from rushing upon 
him, but it has still been flowing on. It has not been diverted from 
its course, it has only been dammed up. The barrier that has been 
raised against it, cannot, however, stand for ever; it must, some 
time or other, give way ; and the longer we have enjoyed its protec- 
tion, the greater will be the torrent that shall burst upon us, when 
it is broken down. And if, m^ friends, it require an aid that is more 
than human, to enable us to stand against the natural stream, to 
preserve us against single, but successive temptations; surely when 
the enemy rushes in like a flood, it is the Spirit of the Lord alone 
that can raise up a standard against him. 

Such are some of the dangers to which we are exposed from the 
world around us. There are others, which arise from the state of 
our own minds. We have begun to think for ourselves, and have 
thrown off that servile deference to authority which influences the 
minds of children. Formerly, for our parents to tell us anything 
was sufficient evidence for our believing it. We thought they could 
not be wrong ; but we now perceive that we have a principle of rea- 
son within ourselves, by whose aid, we feel that we ought to inquire 
into the truth of all our opinions. 

Among others, our religious opinions come to be re-tried, and 
there are many things that may lead us, on this most important sub- 
ject, to false conclusions. 

Our parents had told us of the purity and perfection of Christi- 



ADDRESS ON RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 405 

anity, and we fondly thought that they were living examples of that 
perfection which they taught us to aim at. But we have begun to 
discover that they are not the perfect creatures we took them to be. 
We thought them angels, and we find they are but men. We thought 
them infallible, and we find they have their errors and their weak- 
nesses, and their sins, as well as ourselves. The character of a wit- 
ness materially affects his testimony ; and, as we have in general no 
ground for the religious opinions of childhood, but the testimony of 
parents, our altered views of their character are apt to occasion an 
alteration in our views, of the unchanging truths which they have 
taught us. We so associate together their characters, and the doc- 
trines which they delivered to us, that when we begin to think of 
the former as weak and imperfect, we are too apt to conclude, that 
the latter are weak and imperfect also. 

If, when we are thus beginning to mistrust our early opinions, we 
should hear of some who have bid fair in the Christian course, falling 
away, it will add strength to our suspicion, that the doctrines of the 
Bible may not be all that we thought them, and the natural aversion 
which we have to the truths under review, will prevent us from per- 
ceiving the fallacy of the reasoning by which we have arrived at this 
conclusion. When we have got thus far on the way to infidelity, the 
very circumstance of our having received these opinions in child- 
hood, will seem another reason for despising them. We shall asso- 
ciate them with the other fables which we then listened to with plea- 
sure, and received with confidence ; and we shall think that we be- 
lieved the one, for the same reason that we gave credit to the other ; 
because of our inability to discover the gross deceits that had been 
palmed upon us by those who had full possession of our confidence. 
By a process of thinking, somewhat similar to this, we may come at 
last to think of the devil and of hell, as we now do of the stories of 
ghosts and witches, which once excited our alarm ; and even to as- 
sociate the inspired descriptions of heavenly glory, with gorgeous 
fables of streets of gold, and palaces of emerald, which we have 
read of in the volumes of eastern fiction. 

Nor is this all the imaginary picture. God forbid that it should 
be the fate of any of us. But, my friends, it is too true a sketch of 
the feelings of not a few who have been brought up to acknowledge 
the gospel, but whose repeated violations of the law of God, have 



406 APPENDIX. 

driven them to the fearful expedient of pacifying conscience, by the 
rejection of that book which the xllmighty has been pleased to send 
us, as a revelation of his will ; and sometimes, by the denial of the 
existence of the Eternal himself. 

You see then, my friends, that at our time of life, we are exposed, 
from a variety of causes, to great danger ; and even if we have re- 
ceived a religious education, it alone will not guard us from the evil 
that is in the world. The great question with each of us should be, 
" How shall a young man cleanse his way V The same inspired 
writer who proposes the question, gives us also its answer; "By 
taking heed thereto according to the word." If we would take heed 
to our ways according to the word of God, we must know what that 
word is ; and in orcler to this, we must not only read, but search the 
Scriptures. The study of the Sacred Scriptures then, will form the 
chief part of the business of our meetings. As to w r hat plan we 
ought to adopt in attempting this, I acknowledge to you I feel con- 
siderable difficulty. The persons whose attention I wish chiefly to 
engage, are not children, or I should at once decide upon prescribing 
a passage to be committed to memory, and examining them on what 
had been thus prepared, with a view to interest the scholar in its 
meaning. But you are not children, and I wish to treat you as men. 
If any of yourselves have any plan to propose, I shall be glad to 
listen to it, and consider its merits. 

In the mean time I shall humbly propose the plan which seems to 
me most eligible. I shall propose a certain subject, and ask such 
of you as choose to search the Scriptures, for passages connected 
with it. These you will mark, and be prepared to read. If any 
difficulty occurs to any of you in the passages you meet with, I shall 
be glad to explain it if I can ; or, if not, to take it into considera- 
tion. Eemarks on the different verses may occur to me as you read, 
which I shall make in as plain and familiar a manner as possible. 
I shall study at home the same subject w r hich you are considering, 
and shall choose some passage connected with it, from which, after 
we have gone over your passages, I propose to deliver a very short 
address. 

Let me remind you, however, that all we can do to obtain a cor- 
rect knowledge of the Scriptures, and to attend to our way accord- 
ing to the dictates of inspired wisdom, will prove utterly vain, un- 



ADDRESS ON RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 407 

less we are assisted with power from on high — unless we are en- 
lightened by that Spirit, whose office it is to take of the things of 
Christ, and show them unto men. The most far-sighted and acute 
discerner of earthly things, is a blind man with regard to divine 
things. Let me entreat you then, seriously and fervently to offer 
up the petition we have read this evening: " Open thou mine eyes V 9 
One word before I conclude, about the spirit we ought to manifest 
at these meetings. Let it be a spirit of deep humility. To know 
our own ignorance, and to be willing to learn from every one, are 
the first steps toward the acquisition of wisdom, whether earthly or 
heavenly. There is none of us so wise, but be may learn something 
from the rest ; and none so ignorant but we may all learn something 
from him. And from this let me just remark, that if any of your 
friends, more advanced in life, shall condescend to honour us with 
their presence, and to listen to our exercises, they shall always re- 
ceive a hearty welcome. If they know the truth, as it is in Jesus, 
they will rejoice to see their children seeking the way to Zion ; and 
if they know it not, they may receive knowledge even at this little 
meeting, for which they may bless God through the ages of eternity. 
May I allude, before concluding, to the distressing state of our 
native land from the stagnation of trade ? " Shall there be evil in 
the city, and the Lord hath not done it V We may depend upon it, 
that God does not afflict our country for nought. We may not be 
able to determine the cause for which these calamities have been 
sent, but that there is a cause, we may rest assured. And what, I 
ask, is more likely to bring the scourge of divine vengeance upon a 
nation, than its own iniquities? It were well if men would listen 
to the voice of Providence, which now speaks so loudly in every part 
of our land ; and that, when the judgments of the Lord are abroad 
on the earth, men would learn righteousness. 

The following is one of his short addresses to his class of young 
men ; after it was formed : — 



408 APPENDIX. 



AN ADDRESS TO HIS CLASS. 

u Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth under* 
standing," &c. — Prov. iii. 13 - 19. 

It would be a very reasonable question for any of you to put to 
me to-night, "What has been your object in calling us together?" 
And I think I should speak the sincere language of my heart, in 
answering, " My object simply is to try to make you happy." Could 
I succeed in convincing you, that this is really my design, and that 
I have rational expectations of accomplishing it ; I know that I 
should secure the willing attendance, and the earnest attention of 
all whose circumstances do not absolutely forbid them. Every one 
wishes to be happy. However different may be the pursuits in 
which men engage, and however diversified the objects on which 
they set their affections, this is the great sum of their desires, and 
this the point to which all their efforts tend. Everyone of you feels, 
the truth of this statement. You are all seeking after happiness ; 
and yet, were I to question each one of you on this subject, I dare 
say I should receive the same answer from all, that this great object 
of your wishes has not yet been obtained. There is still another 
point in which I may venture to say, you all agree. And this is, 
" that though you have not yet found this object of your wishes, you 
have the expectation, that at some future period it will be obtained." 
The most miserable has this expectation. Take it away, and you 
leave a man in despair. 

You feel then, that at present, you are not quite happy. Many 
of you may feel yourselves to be very miserable. You earnestly 
desire to be happy ; and you have some vague hope, that at some 
time or other, you will be so. 

This is a subject then, which is interesting to all of you. It is 
interesting to those who are most careless and indifferent about 
everything else. And yet, though a subject of such universal inter- 
est, there is perhaps no subject on which men have differed so 
widely. Why have we so many different characters in the world ? 
It is just because men have such different notions of what will make 
them happy. 

One man thinks, if he were rich, he would be happy, and he gives 



ADDRESS TO HIS CLASS. 409 

all his diligence to accomplish this object. He becomes rich, and in 
all probability, is more wretched than before. This is such a com- 
mon idea, that we may be required to dwell on it a little longer. 
Especially in times like the present, it is most natural for him who 
labours hard for the pittance that barely furnishes the necessaries 
of life, to think that ease and plenty are all that is necessary to con- 
stitute true happiness. But you have only to come in contact with 
the rich, to know how different is the fact. I have said, that I wish 
to make you happy, and that I have rational expectations of accom- 
plishing it. Some, I doubt not, would think it a good proof of the 
sincerity of my assertions, were I able and willing to lavish among 
you the good things of this life. This you know to be impossible ; 
but, were my ability and my benevolence as unbounded as this sup- 
position would require, I should feel that I had miserably failed to 
fulfil the expectations which I might have excited. No ; wealth does 
not constitute happiness. Riches cannot give peace of mind ; and, 
without this, what avails all bodily ease and luxury. 

Some again, have affected to despise wealth, and have sought for 
encouragement in what have been deemed more dignified pursuits. 
But all have proved alike unsatisfactory. There is a want, a long- 
ing for something more, when the world has given all that it can. 
There is one who had tried all the means of happiness this world 
cau afford, who gives it as the testimony of his experience, that " all 
is vanity and vexation of spirit." And I believe, in the moments 
of sober thought, this is the feeling of every individual in looking 
back upon the past. All has been unsatisfying. Expectations of 
happiness have been cruelly disappointed ; and, if there have been a 
few hours of pleasure, they have been but few, and have often left 
the sting of remorse, or the bitterness of grief behind them. There 
may have been gleams of enjoyment which appeared but to vanish : 
but anything like lasting and satisfying happiness has not been ex- 
perienced. And yet, with all that is unsatisfactory in the experience 
of the past, there is a strange delusion that still hangs over the 
future. In spite of experience, men will still hope to find that hap- 
piness which has hitherto deceived their expectations. We will not 
believe that earth cannot give it. The child looks forward to the 
frolics of boyhood, and the boy to the freedom and the pleasures of 
youth. The youth enters on speculations of gain or ambition* and 

35 



410 APPENDIX. 

the accomplishment of these will perfect his happiness. Manhood 
has not brought the longed-for satisfaction, but it has not ceased to 
expect it. Still we will look to the future for happiness, till we have 
no future to look to. And often, the nearer the end approaches, the 
stronger is the delusion. And it is thus that many of us slumber 
on from childhood to grey hairs, still dreaming of an imaginary bliss, 
which, in spite of all experience, we will not believe to be imaginary ; 
ever deceived, and yet ever willing to be deceived again. And it is 
thus, alas, that too many slumber on, pleased with the deceitful 
vision, till the voice of death awakes them to the dread reality. 

And is there, then, no such thing as happiness ! Or, if there be, 
how are we to find it ? If riches and honours, and fame, and learn- 
ing and pleasure, have deceived the expectations of those who 
trusted to them for happiness, must we give up the search ? There 
is such a thing as true enjoyment, and there is a way of finding it, 
which is patent to us all. The meanest, yea, the vilest have found 
it before us, and we need not despair. God has been pleased to 
"show us the path of life;" and if many have sunk to the grave 
without attaining the object of their wishes, it is because they would 
listen to the dictates of their own depraved propensities, rather than 
to the voice of their Creator. let us not imitate so sad an exam- 
ple ! Let us turn to the Bible, and be directed by it in this the most 
interesting of all inquiries. 

He, to whom I have before alluded, as having tried all earthly 
things, and pronounced them "vanity;" while writing under the 
influence of the Divine Spirit, has the following words : " Happy 
is the man that findeth wisdom," &c. Prov. iii. 13-19. This points 
directly to the subject of our inquiries. It is ours, then, humbly to 
investigate what may be the meaning of the words, and to receive 
it as an intimation from Him who knoweth all things, who cannot 
be deceived, and who cannot lie. 

It is evident, then, that the sense of the passage depends mainly 
upon the meaning we give to the words, " wisdom" and "understand- 
ing" (nj*On> PTDDttO I* these are to be understood in the 
sense in which they generally pass current among us, the passage will 
seem at variance with the general remarks we have made about the 
unsatisfactory nature of all earthly things. It is true, the pursuits 
of learning and science are productive of a higher and a purer plea- 



ADDRESS TO HIS CLASS. 411 

sure, than the gross and degrading gratification of avarice or sensu- 
ality. But still there are many called wise, whose wisdom has 
failed to make them happy. This, therefore, cannot be the meaning 
of the words. The Bible is never at variance with facts. Accord- 
ingly, we find the very author of our text bearing witness to the unsat- 
isfactory nature of mere earthly wisdom. (Eccles. i. 16, to the end.) 
If ever the wisdom of any man could afford happiness, the wisdom 
of the wisest must have done so. But you have heard him rank it 
with the other unsatisfactory vanities of earth. We are told of the 
uncertainty of riches ; and, therefore we are exhorted " not to labour 
to be rich." It is added in the same verse " Cease from thine own 
wisdom." Prov. xxiii. 4. 

What then is the meaning of those interesting words, which form 
the chief ingredients of that happiness, after which all are seeking? 
They are not used in their ordinary sense: for, in that case, the 
passage would not be true, and would stand at variance with other 
parts of Scripture. It is always the safest way of interpreting Scrip- 
ture language, and especially those phrases which are peculiar to 
Scripture, when we can make the divine word its own interpreter. 
If you turn to the twenty-eighth verse of the twenty-eighth chapter 
of Job, you will have a beautiful illustration of what I mean. 
There the very same words occur, which are found in our text, ac- 
companied with a full and explicit explanation, " Behold the fear of 
the Lord, that is wisdom ; and to depart from evil, is understanding," 
" The fear of the Lord" you know, is a common expression in Scrip- 
ture for true religion. It indicates a feeling of the profoundest re- 
verence, mingled with adoring love, which is the right state of mind 
in which a creature should regard his Creator. To be truly happy, 
then, we must be truly religious. The understanding that is men- 
tioned, is a departure from evil. This too, is an ingredient of happi- 
ness, and is the consequent of the former. True happiness is insep- 
arably connected with holiness. 

You will say, This is no new discovery. We have been often told 
so. Aye, but have you felt it to be a truth ; and have you acted 
upon it as a truth ? If so, whatever be your sorrows, you can tell 
that you have a joy which the world cannot give, and which it can- 
not take away. If you have not this joy, you have not yet laid hold 



412 APPENDIX. 

on this true wisdom. Seek for her, for happy is the man that find- 
eth her. 

It appears then, that sin is the cause of all the misery that is in 
the world. There is a sense of guilt and a dread of punishment, 
which the most careless sometimes feel, and which must soon burst 
with overwhelming force upon them in that place where conscience 
Will be ever awake. How blessed then is he " whose transgression is 
forgiven, whose sin is covered," &c. (Psalm xxxii.) This conscious- 
ness of guilt must form a great part of the unhappiness of every 
one, whose conscience is not seared as with a hot iron. In the 
gospel then there is a remedy for this. The blessedness mentioned 
in the Psalm may be ours, if we believe that Christ died for our 
sins. But the misery arising from a sense of guilt, is not the only 
misery connected with sin ; nor is it this which constitutes the main 
part of the unhappiness of mankind. An awakened conscience has 
driven many to despair, and the thinking part of mankind are often 
oppressed by the unwelcome intrusions of its warning voice. But 
the gay, unthinking multitude, who never reflect, and who never 
think of futurity, — are they oppressed with a sense of guilt ? They 
often are. And yet is it true, that many dance along from the cradle 
to the grave in whom the past has excited no remorse, and the future 
no anxiety. And yet these were not happy. They roved from 
pleasure to pleasure, seeking what they could not obtain. Their 
very love of novelty, showed that the last amusement could amuse 
no longer. They have sunk to the grave, and they are miserable 
now. There is a misery then connected with sin, independent of a 
sense of guilt, or rather, I should say, Sin itself is misery. It is sin 
which has stamped vanity on all the means of happiness which the 
world presents. It is sin which has mingled bitterness with every 
earthly pleasure. In this view of the matter, every sinner must be 
uuhappy, and that independent of the torments of conscience, or the 
foreboding of torments greater still. Misery must be mingled up 
with his very existence, and every enjoyment must be embittered by 
the principle of unhappiness which is in his own breast. One of 
the scripture names of the devil, means the self tormentor ; and the 
appellation is applicable, in a certain degree, to every worker of ini- 
quity. This is evidently the deadliest wound sin has given, but the 
religion of the Bible has a cure for this too. 



FICTION AS A MEDIUM OF INSTRUCTION. 413 

In the gospel we are offered pardon, and this can disarm conscience 
and take the sting from death. But this is not all. We must be 
purified, as well as pardoned, ere our salvation be complete. The 
natural consequence of sin, is punishment proportioned to the en- 
ormity of the crime; a full pardon frees us from all the overwhelm- 
ing consequences of our guilt. But sin itself is a punishment ; and, 
so long as we are sinners, no pardon, however full or free, can save 
us from this punishment. While we remain depraved and unholy, 
we must be unhappy. A change of character then is the only hope 
of deliverance. And for this, most ample means are provided in the 
gospel of Christ. The very history of that atonement which pro- 
cured our pardon, has a tendency while we meditate upon it, to pro- 
mote our holiness. While we look to Christ, we are made like him. 
While we behold that glory with unveiled faces, we are changed into 
the same image from glory to glory. It is by believing in Christ 
then, and thinking much of his person and his history, that we shall 
find that wisdom, and get that understanding, which shall make us 
truly happy. For thus shall we fear the Lord, in the sense of that 
term ; and thus too shall we be led to depart from evil. 



M. 

ON FICTION, AS A MEDIUM OF RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. 

Every age has its prevailing taste. And if we may judge of the 
mental appetite as we do of that of the body, from the food that is 
most relished by it, we should say, at present, novelty is the rage 
of the day. Whether we examine the tables of our drawing-rooms, 
or the shelves of our humblest circulating libraries, we find the 
greater proportion of the books, and perhaps nearly all those that 
bear the marks of frequent perusal, to be works of fiction. Nor is 
this to be wondered at. We have arrived almost at that state of in- 
tellectual luxury which characterized the Athenians when Paul 
visited their famous city. And it is just what might be expected, 
if the description given of them be applicable to our own country- 
35* 



414 APPENDIX. 

men in the present day. But we confess it does surprise, and in 
some degree alarm us, to find that this love of coloured fiction, in 
preference to sober fact, has infected the Christian part of our com- 
munity too, and has exerted so wide an influence on the character 
of our religious publications. 

We know that religious tales have been written by persons of 
eminent piety, and with the best of motives. We have even heard 
that real spiritual benefit has been obtained by the perusal of them. 
But allowing all this to be true, there is still room for the question, 
what is the tendency of such productions ? 

There is a general objection to common novels, that they give false 
views of the world ; and the same thing may be said of all works of 
fiction. The sketches of Christian character contained in these reli- 
gious tales, have no counterpart among living Christians. 

It seems, indeed, essential to the nature of fiction, that everything 
should be overdone. Truth stamps a worth upon other productions, 
which must be made up here by something else. The volumes of 
Hume or Robertson are held in estimation as histories; but they 
would make but a sorry figure as novels. 

Now, if this be true, here is the very serious evil in the works we 
are considering. Truth is wanting, and the judgment cannot be 
interested. To make up for this, the fancy must be entertained ; and 
this is generally effected by over-wrought descriptions, and unlikely 
coincidences. What must be the effect of this on the mind of an 
unbeliever? He reads the lovely description, and he admires the 
picture. He turns to the world of reality around him, and sees 
nothing like it. And the too plausible conclusion is, " Well, if this 
be Christianity, these people, after all, are not what they pretend 
to be." 

Equally pernicious must be the influence of this ideal perfection 
of Christian character, on the mind of a young disciple. He who 
has formed his notions of Christian society from the New Testament* 
will be prepared for the trials he may meet with, in his intercourse 
with Christian brethren, and in his fellowship with a Christian 
Church. He will lament that good men should differ in some of 
their opinions ; and that sometimes there should spring from this, 
debates and strifes that are most unseemly. But he will not be 
stumbled by it; for he has read of a " contention so sharp" between 



FICTION AS A MEDIUM OF INSTRUCTION, 415 

two most eminent evangelists, that it caused their separation. He 
will be grieved that the love of many should wax cold ; but he will 
be prepared to expect it. It will distress him much, if the faith of 
some be overthrown, who seemed to be the people of God. Still he 
will not be stumbled. He knows that there were similar declensions 
even among the first disciples, who professed the name of Jesus, at 
the peril of their lives. And in the midst of all these discouragments 
he will be sustained by the consideration, " Nevertheless, the founda- 
tion of God standeth sure." 

Not so he who has overlooked the salutary lessons of these in- 
structive facts, and has gathered his ideas of the religious world 
from the pages of some interesting fiction. "When he comes in con- 
tact with realities, the beautiful vision that delighted him must 
vanish. Disappointments and discouragements will come thick 
upon him. His zeal must be damped, and his ardour quenched, 
and in all human probability his faith will be shaken. 

It is a still stronger objection to works of fiction, that they place 
their reader in an ideal world, where he can enjoy the luxury of 
tender or sublime emotions, without undergoing the toil and the 
self-denial which are inseparable from the conduct that usually pro- 
duces such feelings. He forgets his own character, and identifies 
himself with the hero of the story. And if he but succeed in sup- 
posing the generous or benevolent deeds of this character to be his 
own ; he succeeds to a certain degree in actually appropriating to 
himself the feelings which spring from such actions. 

It is a strange paradox that men of the basest and most grovelling 
characters can sympathize with such feelings. It is strange, indeed, 
that a man who can be ravished with the beauties of nature should 
be capable of turning from the elevating contemplation of the work 
of God to the gratification of his grossest appetites. And yet such 
characters are to be found. The lives of some of our most illustrious 
poets furnish us with too conspicuous examples. The readers of 
fiction present us with a similar paradox ; and the explanation in 
both cases is the same. The poet, in phrensy, forgets for a while 
the real world, and forgets his own real character, and so does the 
reader of fiction, though in a less degree. The only difference is, 
that the novelist does for his reader what the poet does for himself. 
The truth is, that the class of feelings to which we allude, are highly 



416 APPENDIX. 

productive of pleasure ; and no wonder that even the vicious love to 
indulge in them, when they can do so at a cheaper price than virtue. 
In a region of fancy such emotions can be cheaply purchased, and 
hence the universal charm of novels. Even the miser can dissolve 
in tenderness over a tale of suffering, when he knows that his gold 
is safe. And the narrowest spirit can dilate with generosity, if self- 
interest be not at stake. And finally, the most degraded profligate 
can admire and sympathize with virtue, if his vicious passions may 
still be gratified. Let any one who wishes for an exemplification of 
these remarks, read Rousseau's Eulogium on the character of Jesus 
Christ. 

These general remarks, we think, are quite applicable to the reli- 
gious novels of the day. We have not alluded to the pernicious 
principles contained in common novels : our observations have a re- 
gard to those qualities alone that are common to all works of fiction. 
Now it is indeed a serious evil, if by the process we have described, 
those delightful emotions which attend the deeds of philanthropy, 
can be stolen without paying their fair price in benevolent actions. 
But it is an evil more serious still, if, in this way, we can work our- 
selves into a state of sentimental excitement, and mistake this for 
that hallowed ecstasy which the faith of the gospel can alone afford. 
A mistake here is fatal, and we cannot help thinking that the class 
of publications we refer to make such a mistake easy. If an un- 
known author may be allowed to refer to his own experience, he can 
well remember perusing with intense delight, the fascinating pages 
of " No Fiction/' and giving the sympathy of his tears to some of 
its affecting passages, when his whole soul was in direct opposition 
to the gospel of Jesus Christ. 

There are many who look upon evangelical Christianity as a beau- 
tiful system, and who can delight to contemplate it, so long as it in- 
terferes not with tliem. They consider an eloquent sermon as a high 
intellectual treat. If ever they are offended with the preacher, or 
his doctrine, it is when conscience whispers that this may be all a 
reality, and may have an influence on their own destinies. The 
preacher is to them " as a very lovely song of one that hath a pleas- 
ant voice, and can play well upon an instrument." Give such per- 
sons religion dressed up in the form of a fiction,, and it is just the 
thing they want. The song which charmed them remained in all its 



FICTION AS A MEDIUM OF INSTRUCTION. 417 

loveliness ; and the truth which excited their alarm, is alarming no 
longer, when so closely wrapped with what is known to be fictitious. 

If we may be allowed to add a single remark to a discussion al- 
ready too lengthened, we would observe, that the style of the in- 
spired writers seems to pronounce tacit condemnation on these high 
coloured and overstrained productions. They have surely adopted 
the best method of conveying instruction, who had all resources 
within their power, and almighty wisdom to direct their choice. 
Their method is a recital of naked facts. Here is no embellishment, 
no impassioned description, although the facts related are the most 
affecting which our earth has witnessed. They wished that the con- 
victions of their readers should rest on facts, and that their feelings 
too should be excited by facts * 

The artist or the novelist may set before our imaginations the 
circumstances of the Redeemer's death, much more impressively 
than any of the evangelists have done. We may gaze upon the 
crucifix and weep ; but our tears will not be the tears of repentance. 
And our indignation may burn against the persecutors of one so 
meek and so benevolent, while we continue more attached than ever 
to those sins that nailed the Lord of glory to the tree. It is the 
simple fact that the Son of God died for our sins, — as that fact 
illustrates the divine character, — which can make us abhor the sin 
we gloried in, and gladly suffer for the truth we once despised. 

While we have so rich a store of facts, it is surely unwise to re- 
sort to fiction. We will venture to say, that one judicious volume 
of Christian biography, has been of more service to the cause of 
truth, than all the religious tales, or stories, " founded on fact " that 
have ever issued from the press. 

The following fragment on a very important subject, appears to 
have been written about this time. I deeply regret that it is but 
a fragment, as from the very happy mode of illustrating the sub- 
ject, which belongs to the first part of the paper, it would, I have 
no doubt, been a very admirable illustration of the doctrine had 
he lived to complete it ; — 

* We trust we shall not be misunderstood, as speaking against earnest ap- 
peals, founded on these facts. 



418 APPENDIX. 



ON THE OMNIPRESENCE AND OMNISCIENCE OF GOD 

When we have offended a fellow man, and wish to escape his 
anger, the first thought that occurs, is to flee from his presence. 
We know that his observation is limited to one little spot ; and that 
anywhere else we are safe. 

Imagine, however, that such an individual possessed an active 
band of emissaries, scattered over a large extent of territory, with 
whom he can maintain an easy communication ; or, that he himself 
is able to move with immense velocity in whatever direction he may 
please ; and you can see how difficult it would be to escape from his 
presence. A well-regulated police will give some idea of this. Let 
an offender escape whither he will, a description of his person, and 
a warrant to apprehend him, is there before him. Suppose such a 
system perfect, and that all its operations are performed, not by 
numerous agents, but by one individual, possessed of the power of 
moving with the rapidity of lightning if you will, still this would 
afford but a poor conception of what is meant by omnipresence. 

Flight would no longer be a means of escape ; but concealment 
might. The eye of man cannot pierce the darkness, — nor can he 
guess the design that is formed in secret. And, however swift his 
motions, and minute his observations, some lurking place might still 
be found, which the most exquisite scrutiny could discover. The 
bare possibility of escape would be thus afforded, and that is all. 
But there is no such possibility of escape from God. " If we ascend 
up into heaven," &c. It is not by any change of place that God 
meets us wherever we turn. However difficult may be the concep- 
tion, he is present everywhere. He fills heaven and earth with his 
presence. No wonder that David exclaimed, on contemplating the 
omnipresence of the Deity, — " Such knowledge is too wonderful for 
me." Psalm cxxxix. 15. If we wish to do anything in secret, it is 
the presence of a sentient being that we dislike ; and the more acute 
and piercing his senses, the more would we avoid his presence. The 
mental and moral character of an individual is also a matter of im- 
portance. Thus darkness suspends the power of one of the human 
senses. Hence men can commit crime in the dark, which they would 
blush to perform in open day. And, in some instances, the presence 



OMNIPRESENCE AND OMNISCIENCE. 419 

of the inferior animals -would be a matter of indifference, -when the 
presence of human beings, especially of one esteemed for his virtues, 
would be felt as a most distressing intrusion. Now think of these 
remarks in their application to God? 

" The darkness and the light are both alike to him." And, if we 
speak of a lurking place, behold, " hell is naked before him, and de- 
struction hath no covering. All things are naked, and open," &c. 
And the Almighty Being, of whom these things are affirmed, is a 
being of uspotted purity. 

Could a human being thus force himself on our bodily presence at 
all times, and in all circumstances, there would yet remain to us one 
retreat, whose secrets, without our consent, no human scrutiny might 
discover. Man may drive us from every other hiding-place, but he 
cannot come, unbidden, into the secret place of the soul. He may 
mark all our words and actions but our thoughts : his most keen- 
sighted penetration fails him there. The torture may be employed 
to force the will, and compel us to reveal what is passing within us. 
But in some cases of firm hardihood, the tyrant has found even his 
tortures ineffectual. There have been minds which refused to bend, 
though the body was broken on the torturing wheel. But there is 
no such repeal from the all-knowing Deity. It is his high preroga- 
tive to know the thoughts, and to try the views, of the children of 
men. Think then of that Almighty Presence, which is with us 
wherever we go. Think of that all-seeing eye, which not only can 
pierce the thickest darkness, and lay open the most secret hiding 
place; but which, without the medium of anything material, can 
gaze upon the naked soul, and tell the unuttered thoughts that are 
rising and passing within us. 

There is still another way in which we may sometimes escape the 
anger of a fellow-man. If we can but avoid him for a season, we 
know that time will erase the remembrance of the offence, or at 
least, it will mitigate the fury of his passion. Thus Esau, who 
sought to kill his brother Jacob, received him, after the lapse of 
years, with cordial affection. But it is not so with God. " He is 
not a man, that he should repent." 

God is present throughout space, in the world of mind, as well as 
the world of matter. He is present also throughout all duration, 
throughout time, throughout eternity. 



420 APPENDIX. 

The former was a difficult conception. This is still more so, and 
language fails to express it. It may be an easier way of conceiving 
the idea, to say, that all the past, and all the future, are to Him as 
the present, " Known unto him," &c. Hebrews iv. 6. It was some 
such conception that the philosophers had, who spoke of the Eternal 
now. Neither matter, nor spirit, nor duration itself, can remove us 
from this omnipresent God. 

Hitherto we have been labouring to get some conception of the 
idea expressed by the term omnipresence. 

Let us consider what effect it should produce on our minds, to 
know that God is omniscient and omnipresent. 

In the illustration we set out with, we supposed the case of one 
endeavouring to escape the anger of the man whom he had offended. 
How terrible is the anger of an adversary, who is omnipresent! On 
the contrary, how delightful the thought of a Friend who never 
leaves us ! Now, how do we regard Him who alone possesses this 
wondrous attribute ? Is God our friend, or do we think of him only 
as our enemy? Alas, too many think of him merely as the de- 
stroyer of their pleasures, and the punisher of their sins. They 
would fain flee from his presence, but they cannot. The full impres- 
sion of his omnipresence would be perfect misery. This they can, 
in some degree, avoid, if not by escaping from his presence, by ban- 
ishing Him from their thoughts. The idea of God is an idea of 
pain. No wonder, then, if they can command the direction of their 
own minds, that we can say concerning them, " God is not in all 
their thoughts." But it will not be so always. There are cases in 
which conscience, roused by a deed of uncommon atrocity, and ever 
awake, has given some impression of an ever-present God. The 
murderer may flee from the scenes where he did the horrid deed, 
but they will not leave his thoughts ; asleep or awake, the sword of 
justice will be seen hanging over him ; and in many cases, he has 
been known to seek the hand of the avenger, to try if death would 
give relief from an existence of unmingled wretchedness. what 
is the misery of those who have lifted up their eyes in hell ! There 
conscience cannot slumber. There the unwelcome idea of a God of 
unrelenting justice, can be banished from the thoughts no longer. 

THE END. 



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